Dark Shilouttes the first book
by Myra Crimson
Summary: An ancient grudge carries over 153 years.  can adrian escape vladimir, bty hidning herself in a pack of lycanthrope. and will vladimirs mages be enough to handle adrian and the rouge wolves?


Dark Silhouettes

Prologue

It was late afternoon and the sky was turning pink and the clouds into a purple haze, out side of the New Port house. A young girl of about 17 years of age walked through the door, wearing a dark green traveling dress and a tight back cloak. As she walked across the courtyard towards the gate, even heavily cloaked as she was, any one could tell she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her long auburn hair reached almost to her waist, and her deep blue eyes reflected the inner sense of power and determinedness that she exhumed. Her name was Adrian. Adrian hated her house and hated her father and that pompous monster she was promised to. He may have been rich but what need has she for riches?

She walked briskly as she could, tears and her bone-breaking corset didn't help the process. On the other side of that yard were woods, beautiful oak and birch trees. There she knew would be Brian waiting for her as always. Brian was beautiful, auburn hair and these dark ebony eyes. She loved him more than anything, he was everything to her and they decided to leave together and forever. They had plotted to leave for France, they would take train headed to Boston Harbor; then board a ship for England to the port of Kigsbridge in Wessex. Then Cross the British Channel and then take a train straight to Paris.

"Adrian, what's wrong? Have you been crying?" He asked her, his face so full of concern and flushing slightly with anger. She knew how much he hated her father and his unjust ways.

"I could kill that bastard!" Brian growled. "What has he done to cause you harm?"

"Brian, its terrible, he wants me to marry that beast Mr. Bates! I hate him!" She cried out as her eyes brimmed with tears once more. This time she did nothing to hide her sadness and frustration.

"Well we must leave," He said with an air of anxiousness, lifting his eyes to meet her, he said. "But first, before I go, there's something I need to know." He paused, as if standing on the edge of a great decision. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Adrian said, a little surprised by the question.

"Adrian, do you trust me? I need to know." He said determined to get an answer. "Do you?"

"Always" She said as she fell into his arms.

With that, Adrian left the world of innocence and heartbeats forever.

Chapter one 

Adrian walked along the dark, lonesome street in New York. The night air was cold in her lungs, and burned her nose with the smell of rain and leaves. The night was cold, even for late November and the black streets were slicked with what was left of that days rain. She walked placidly in the cold, for it did nothing to her. She was always cold, or numb to some extent. Adrian had a job working at this club in the outskirts of Manhattan, it was so secluded that she didn't think anyone could find it, but never the less it was always packed with rowdy patrons.

Finally Adrian reached the club, it was a plain brick building and only thing that could be heard was the beat-beat-beat of the heavy bass that always rocked the club. Inside, the building wasn't plain by any standards; it was a huge room with a bar in the far left side. Small tables and couches circled the outer rim of the dance floor. The most dramatic effects of the place were the mirrors surrounding the walls, and the red strobe light that cloaked the room in a steady flash of crimson. Even the bass has its own gothic and rave effect on everyone; it was loud and shook the floors.

Eda worked behind the bar, she was what you would describe as a pin-up girl. She was beautiful, her curly black hair rolled down her slender shoulders. Her tan skin and dark eyes displayed an air of something exotic that seemed to attract endless amounts of drunken, would be suitors. She always knew where everything was, even if no one else did; as everything was in identical red bottles.

"Hey it's my bitch, how are you Dri?" Inquired Eda in a jovial voice. She walked from around the bar displaying what could be described as a burlesque outfit. She wore a red-plaid miniskirt with matched with a black lace corset, despite its rather shocking appearance it looked sultry and alluring on her small brown sugar colored frame.

"Eh, been better but lets get to work before it picks up" Adrian said, looking at the two or three people lounging on chairs and drinking. She knew that those two or three people would be joined by at least two hundred other people before ten o'clock.

"You know Primary Source is playing tonight," Eda said thoughtfully. "They are the shit in Manhattan,"

"What ever, they better not suck" Adrian gave Eda a critical stare, briefly remembering the drunken screaming-potheads that played last November.

"Here, take this" She handed Adrian a large clear bottle. "Maybe it will make you less of a bitch"

"Maybe I like being a bitch" Adrian said unapologetically, "besides I feel sorry for the poor bastard who has to pay for this". Though she felt bad, good Vodka was hard to come by.

A tall, exceedingly handsome man, looking in his mid twenties was walking through the dark streets. His jetty black hair framing his face and deep blue eyes, shining from the shadows it seemed they would entrance any young woman caught unawares. Vladimir, that was his name, and it was cursed by many beings. This man was not only human, but a half demon with the blood of a witch intermingled with that of a cobra pulled into his strain. He walked through the small city on his way to the nightclub, Havoc. It was in a small city and even though he was still quite a ways off he could easily hear the steady beating of the bass. After 300 years anyone could learn to hear things. Being a triste, (half blood) he was almost immortal; they live extremely long and hardly age (they age at about 1/6 of the human rate).

Havoc was packed that night full of members of the anti-killings group Eternal Legacy. Adrian noticed a group of vampires eyeing her curiously and also eyes of a few humans.

"HAHAHA! You're really cute," a drunken girl giggled. There was a vampire standing next to her, after his feeble attempts of flirting she finally left with him. She wonders how girls so stupid could have survived though evolution.

'She is either in for a night of cheap sex, or going to be his next meal' Adrian thought to herself, the tips of her mouth curling slightly into a cunning smile. Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted _Vladimir_, sitting at a small table in the back; slowly sipping coffee, the saucer rattling and rocking with the bass. His face was relaxed and for a moment she admired his strange unworldly beauty, she quickly forced this thought from her mind like a bad dream.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked coldly, this was no place for him and she wanted to make it known! How was it that this demon was able to haunt her, and he served as a painful reminder of the life she so willingly left.

"I am paying, so I should like to stay." He said casually, as if he was asked for another cup of coffee. His blue eyes caught hers and she felt fire dance up her spine, "If your Father knew a lady talked this way, or that _you_ were talking this way he would have a lot to say…" This got Adrian mad, no one but her Father's minions knew that he beat her.

"Get the hell out of here, Vladimir, before I kick you the fuck out!" She shouted at him, but he only seemed mildly amused as he sipped his coffee. He eyed her slyly over his coffee cup, his high cheekbones giving him a mischievous expression.

"My, my, aren't we the feisty one. If I am not mistaken maybe you should be the one leaving, hmm? What do you say Adrian Kalle Reinglaugh?" He asked coolly, she could have killed him for that. She summed as much of her aura as she could to send him a warning. _Stay in your place Vladimir, you remember well what happened the last time you crossed me unawares. _She spoke into his mind; she was referencing the fight he had barely managed to escape with his life in.

"Fine, my coffee is cold anyway I am getting out of here." He got up and slowly walked out the door. Adrian followed him, ready to beat the living shit out of him.

The cold air stung her lungs, and the only light she had was the street lamp which drenched everything in dreary yellow light, but on the outside of it's yellow light was darkness. It wasn't like regular dark it was heavy, a heavy, living, breathing thing. It was the kind that could make even the strongest of heart shiver and feel uneasy. Where was Vladimir, though? He was nowhere to be found and it was to deathly quiet for him to be hiding in some corner!

"Shit" she said as she punched the lamppost, almost immediately pain shot through her arm. There was also a slight burning and a popping noise as her broken knuckles grew and reset themselves in their respective joints. She heard the faint sound of Vladimir's laugh somewhere in the darkness, and the words crossed her mind _temper, temper. _

"Don't be to mad at yourself, you just have to much of a temper." A voice said behind her, Adrian spun around trying to face the unwanted voice. There sitting casually behind her was Melcia, a fey. She had a typical glamour of her race, but her defining trait was her gold feline eyes. Melcia was beautiful in her ways, with her long, scarlet hair, white skin, and long legs. She was rather proportionate for her mere 5' height. Cia as she was often called, was around seven hundred years old but didn't look a day over seventeen. She was kicked out of her small town for practice with swords and reading tarot cards.

"Cia, shut up! I am not in the mood to deal with you and your bullshit!" shouted Adrian.

"But you're in the mood to chase that boy aren't you. He is a pretty one but, how is Ryan, or Brian or whoever he is." Melcia asked with an air of false innocence.

"A lot better than yours," she spat. Adrian, of course, knew Melcia has been dating a fairy even before she could remember. His name was Allen, a tall, skinny blond who was quite handsome, a little mischievous at times, but all the same a riot to be with. Last she heard of him he was in quite a lot of trouble with his own Councils authority, and was most likely facing death. Melcia stared at her coldly for a moment before letting out a charming laugh, and smiling that captivating smile.

"Well Cia, I'm out of here." And with that she moodily walked down the sidewalk. If she couldn't find Vladimir (and do him bodily harm) then what was the point staying here, in some stupid dirty nightclub!

**Chapter Two**.

Aziza looked at herself in the mirror. She hated what she saw, a little wisp of a person with mousy, almost blonde, uneven, choppy hair. Her skin was of olive complexion and never suited to her liking, it made her cheeks look flushed and made her eyes even more obscenely green. She was roughly 5'6" but rarely stood to her full height

'_Look at me, I am gaining weight like no other!_' she silently chided herself. With that she grabbed her toothbrush, all it took was a couple pokes at the back of her throat and she got the satisfying bitter taste; a taste that meant she would never gain even an ounce of weight.

Aziza walked into her room, which was typical for a teenager, but it seemed abnormal to her. She clicked 'on' the CD player and just let it play the usual yuppie/punk shit that was always on the radio. Aziza walked back into the bathroom and started with her eyeliner. She couldn't focus while the music behind her blasted.

'So as your blood's running thin  
Your time's running out  
No one will be listening  
Not even when you shout  
When your angels turn to devils  
You'll finally figure out  
That no one will be with you in the end'

She finished her makeup and left her room in a hurry. Her mother was passed out on the couch and her latest asshole boyfriend was sitting in the kitchen. She wondered silently to herself if they even heard the door slam behind her, or the screeching of the tires as she speed away from her home, her hell.

After about an hour of driving she ended up at James' apartment, it was a small, but it was furnished in a classy and inexpensive way. Thankfully he wasn't home, she wanted to surprise him. She walked slowly to the bathroom, and flicked on the lights. The bathroom was larger than most would have expected, and it always had a rose and mango scent to it. She saw a reflection of herself out of the corner of her eye, and saw a half starved five-and-a-half-foot tall misfit. When she looked again she just saw a girl with pale skin, and dark red lipstick on. She was pretty, beautiful by almost any standards and loved it when her skin contrasted the extreme red color of her lipstick.

She took a shower just to calm her anger and let her black eye liner run dramatically. Everything about her seemed more appealing after she took a shower. She loved to let the scalding water burn her cheeks and run over her body. The water beating against her skull made a dull roaring sound, it was enough to drown out the sound of James walking in the front door.

James walked up the last couple stairs to his apartment, and was standing at his front door, when he heard the faint drone of the shower running. He found this odd because he was barely ever there and he had no roommates. He opened the door slowly and he saw Aziza's dirty-oil painted canvas bag. Something seemed to click into place and he had such a rush of anxiety and suspense. He walked down towards the bathroom, and froze dead in his tracks when he suddenly heard the water stop. There he was standing right in front of his bathroom door scared like a child, suddenly the door opened. There was Aziza standing in a white towel, her hair slightly curly and her eyes wide with surprise. Steam rushed out the bathroom door lightly perfumed with the smell of roses, and it gave him chills.

_O, Shit._ Though Aziza to herself: James was just standing there looking at her, stunned. She was getting goose bumps from the cold hallway air, compared to the warm steamy bathroom. Something inside her snapped and she quickly cleared the distance between James and herself, leaned in and started kissing him. His cold lips pressed against her needy and warm lips, his mouth still with surprise and her kiss containing a dire longing and passion that is indescribable. After a clutzy walk/stumble/make-out to his room, she felt the cold sheets underneath her and him on top of her. His cold stone body pressed against her warm flesh.

Aziza lay in James bed; the sheets were carelessly thrown over their bodies as they dealt with the aftermath of sex. A warm glow seemed to warm her heart, and the light sense of euphoria turning up the corners of her mouth.

She watched him sleep peacefully. He had one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and the other was resting by her head his hand tangled in her hair. Aziza got butterflies when she thought about what had happened. She could smell him lying next to her, so delicate and so cold. He was hers, forever.

Adrian walked home in an angry haze. Everything she did made her skin feel hot and her blood run cold. She walked into her apartment and threw the keys into the bowl on the table. Brian lay under a blanket asleep on the couch; she couldn't see his face so she just assumed that he was sleeping.

"Brian get up you lazy son of a bitch" she said, and just as she expected he did nothing and just slept. Brian could sleep though anything, and he did in fact miss most of the renaissance era because of his deep deathly sleep. She angrily walked over and tapped his shoulder "I said get" Brian suddenly jumped up and tackled her to the ground tickling her. "STOP, HAHA BRIAN YOU SICK FUCK STOP! HAHAHAHAHAH, I said…" she slammed her head into the coffee table and everything started going fuzzy and hazy, then finally black.

"Dri, Dri? Adrian baby. Are you ok?" She opened her eyes to see a very concerned Brian, and an almost unbearable searing pain in her forehead. She wasn't sure which hurt her more, the pained expression and guilt in his eyes or her now splitting migraine.

"Am I okay? I just slammed my head into a fucking table! How the hell do you think I am!" she practically shouted at him; guilt shown more clearly on his perfect features. She went to sit up, but she got dizzy and a sharp pain in her left temple. It was probably a minor concussion at least.

"Look I know it probably hurts, don't give me that look, I know it hurts a lot. But its not going to get better if you sit there and pout like a child." Brian got up and got a towel from the kitchen, Adrian could hear the water running, he soon retuned and placed the wet towel on her forehead. It caused a sharp pain and she inhaled sharply.

"What are you doing Brian," She asked indignantly.

"Its just water but you got a pretty little bruise and a cut." He said calmly.

"That's reassuring" she spat at him, he seemed a bit hurt by what she said. "No, don't give me that face. I know your just trying to help," she added in a softer tone, he seemed to perk up a little at her saying that. He was always so sensitive, she felt like she needed to watch her temper around him.

"Well since I'm incapacitated," Adrian said blearily, "how about you tell me a story" Brian looked hesitant, but she looked at him pleadingly and a warm smile crossed his romantic face.

The evening passed as Brian and Adrian talked about days long ago. She felt odd in a way, it was hard to describe; and the feelings followed her into her dreams; Strange dreams plagued by spirits and faces all unrecognizable and all of them watching…

They casually waltzed around the room, that beautiful ballroom of over 100 years ago.

"This was Paris," she said to herself softly. There was the faint smell of jasmine perfume, and the air tasted of excitement. The room was full of emotions, jealousy and love, anticipation, even hate, filled the air that night.

Then Brian spied Adrian from across the room, about fifty years before they had gotten in a fight. The last he had heard was that she went back to America posing at the fiancé of a rich businessman; quickly to report her own death three months later.

Brian had thought she was still in America until recently when picking up the paper he was intrigued by the headline 'Beautiful American traveler, expected at the Christmas Ball'.

Brian knew that not many Americans were invited to the Christmas Ball, or were fluent enough to know if they were invited or not. Never the less, it was Adrian; she was in an elegant white silk ball gown with a crimson sash around the middle. Her gown accentuated her already slender and perfect figure.

Adrian had known the minute she walked in that Brian was there she felt it like heat lightening in the air, so she decided to find someone to dance with and play the game of jealousy. Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted a striking flaxen haired man, he was tall and well cultured. He did seem a little too fluid and chivalrous for this crowd, Adrian honed in on his thought wave and found out that his name was Allen, and he was a part of the Fairy Court.

There was a short introduction, and he soon asked her to dance with a charming smirk no girl mortal or immortal was ever immune to. They twirled and swayed like two autumn leaves in a late autumn wind. There were only two things wrong with this picture; one was that Brian didn't notice her and was talking animatedly to some plump _child_ in an atrocious yellow satin gown, and two was that she and Allen were attracting too much attention from the other dancers (and spectators to boot). Adrian quickly excused herself, and half ran out into the rose filled garden. Her emotions welling up painfully in her heart, and she felt that she would shatter if she stayed in that emotionally charged room.

It was definitely romantic out in the moon filled garden. The full moon hung low in the sky, and the lilac perfume made the night seem lazy and carefree. Adrian leaned herself against the chill stone of the house. Her mind was flooding with questions and she was livid with pent up frustration '_How dare Brian not notice me, How can he talk to that fat dog-faced hussy! Oh I hate him! I just hate him_'. Her eyes were full of tears and they were threatening to break at any second. Then a voice cut though her despair.

"Adrian, Why are you out here?" It was Brian; He started walking closer to her

"Brian, just leave me alone, why don't you go back and enjoy that little hussy in the yellow dress?" Adrian spat at him. She couldn't understand how he chose that girl over her.

"I-I know what I did was wrong but-" Brian's voice was cut off as everything began to blur and go out of focus.

Adrian's dream was suddenly cut short; there was a searing burning pain against her throat. She was staring face to face with Vlad. She was now lying on the couch. His elbow was pressed painfully against her windpipe; if she had been a mortal he would have crushed it.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Is the infamous Adrian finally going to be caught," Vladimir whispered. "And killed I might add." He pressed down a little harder on her throat. Adrian could feel the fragile bones snapping, she tried to say something but all she could do was gasp.

"You look like a fish out of water!" Vladimir laughed, an unmistakably ruthless laugh "Now tell me chickie, how shall I do this?" He pulled a small silver blade out of his pocket. "The quick and painless, or shall I just take my time," He slowly started carving into her arm with the blade, He made graceful swirls and lines, each one burning and smarting into her arm. The aftermath would become a graceful and intricate swan, one that would stay forever imbedded into her upper left shoulder.

Brian had just gone out to look for a meal, when something inside of him whispered 'maybe you should go home'. So he briskly walked towards home. The night seemed different, that night everything seemed so surreal and the colors were more vivid. While he was walking he felt the urge to breathe, he only had to do that for speaking, but never for running or walking around on the street.

About 10 minutes later he was at his apartment door, the door was a plain wood door but something about it made it seem foreboding. It seemed to threaten him but who in their right mind would be afraid of a door? Gathering his courage he opened the door, he saw Adrian sitting on the couch crying. She was cradling her arm, and he could see her skin trying to repair its self, in about another minute it will all just be a scar.

Adrian looked over at him, and she tried to say something but before she could say anything he saw a man walk out of the kitchen, he looked quite calm and at home with himself. His eyes glinted maliciously from underneath his mop of charcoal colored hair. He was leaning casually against the wooden doorframe to the kitchen, a checked dishtowel in his hands. "Who the fuck are you?" demanded Brian.

"I am your Grim Reaper." Vladimir replied, tilting his head to the side as a twisted grin made it's way across his visage.

Vladimir quickly pulled one of his concealed silver knives and threw it at Brian.

Relying on his vampiric speed and agility he dodged the thrown blade and lunged at the man, letting loose a feral growl. He exposed his fangs and brought his clenched fists to bear. Brian scored a few glancing blows upon the invader, but not before another knife was thrust into his heart.

Adrian screamed. She stood there and watched as Vladimir murdered the only person she had ever loved. _Paybacks a biter banshee, Remember that Adrian. _Vladimir's voice rang though her ears maliciously. Making her dry heave on the now stale air of the apartment, she was slowly chocking and tears fell from her eyes onto Brian's now pallid truly dead face. His body lay unflinching as her tears splattered on his face, his eyes staring blankly to the wall. A vengeful desperation consumed her as she chocked back bile; it sparked a need to kill and an unquenchable hunger to be merciless.

Adrian cried all the night, as the body dissolved into dust, she sobbed frantically. Over 150 years, and not once had she ever told him how she felt, he always knew though. But she had never said a word. Adrian was so shocked she felt her heart beat, a painful experience. Since the muscle hadn't been used in so long. 'If it can beat, it can break' she told her self. Adrian felt an evil course though her veins, her despair plunged her into a darker side of herself and she let the evil take her. Then she swore she would make everyone feel her pain, and Vladimir will pay.

Chapter Three 

About a year has passed, the original trends were now considered obsolete. Everything changed. Aziza was now 18 and had a small house with James; her bulimia had completely devastated her body. Her desolate habit of self-mutilation seemed to feed her will to survive; she had pierced her eyebrow, her navel, and several new piercing in her ears. The pain didn't seem to affect her the way it would a normal person her system thrived on the pain. Her mind was sharp and her words were often harsh.

It killed James to watch her wither away slowly, but he also knew what she was human. She would be gone in a blink of his eyes, but the way she starved herself made her life even shorter. Her blood hung like a delicate musk in the air, James had to use all of his self control when Aziza was in moods like this. The blood sang to him, and it was so inviting and it was _so _close. Aziza didn't do much anymore; she just slept or slit her wrists. When she would sleep her face was white and blotchy, she reminded him of those patients in the terminal ward of the hospital.

She would blast music though the tiny house and the neighbors would often complain; it was loud poetic music that would always be stuck in his mind. Tonight as he watched her sleep the music echoed:

"_She said she liked the way I kissed  
So cutting edge I slit my wrists  
I need to vomit disappear  
and kill those monsters in my mirror  
Out classed by losers second place  
Before I fell flat on my face  
So sick of dreaming, wake me up  
and do your worst to shut me up  
I'm resistant to your insistence  
I can hear you off in the distance  
Telling me the end is coming soon  
Too addicted to breathe without it  
Too embarrassed to talk about it  
I'll kiss you off and try to leave  
without you following me  
This punctured pallet pains me red  
Disturbed and angered dead instead  
Just lift your lips and leave me lost  
A pale cold corpse collecting moss  
These echoes count your hours down…"_

The band was Vendetta Red, or something of such a title. The song attracted his attention because of the relevance of his life, as well as hers. He looked down at her beautiful sleeping form, and he delicately ran his fingers across her cheek to brush away stray hair. She instinctively flinched from his cool touch as it chilled her warm skin, and it pained his heart to be reminded how different they really were.

The smell of blood always tingled his nostrils; the blood lust would claw at him viciously from inside. It would seem to sing to him, devious thoughts of evil and longing. Tonight as she sat in the bathroom and cut herself it seemed to sing '_go on, you know she is going to die anyways. She is just letting it spill onto the floor. She doesn't even want it. Go on, Go on._' He was so tempted the desire seemed to consume every reasonable ounce of his thoughts; never had he felt such desire, such passion, and such aggression.

James walked into the tiny bathroom and saw Aziza sitting on the rim of the bathtub. One hand held a straight edge, and the other was a fist and clutching a wad of crumpled tissues. He could see the tears in her eyes, and look of pained victory on her face. She was determined, and so was he. He walked in slowly and kneeled next to the tub. Staring her in the eyes, he slowly pulled the razor out of one hand and pulled her arm close to his mouth.

He could feel her pulse quicken, and the warm blood streamed on to his hand. He tenderly lowered his mouth to her bleeding arm. Her wrist was moist and warm, it was full of life; though his lips were soft and caress was gentle it made her inhale sharply with pain.

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you_" He sent this into Aziza's mind. He would use this when he would hunt; it was a comfort method to hear a calm voice in the back of your head. It was to tell them not to scream, or do something much more deadly.

"It doesn't," she gasped. "Please, don't stop" she moaned slightly as he kissed her wrist and arm. He opened his mouth and licked his lips and the cuts; there was a strong promise of blood. Hers was sweet and strong, it intoxicated him like wine. He knew soon he would be lost to the blood lust.

"I can't. Aziza you're a Witch!" he stammered out. His mind seemed to be in knots, and senses dazzled. He was slightly chocking on the sweet power filled blood, he wanted it too badly and it began to eat at his will power to restrain himself.

"James there is no such thing!" she giggled, "Witches aren't real, and I certainly am not a Witch". She too was getting high on the effects of being fed on, it also has a euphoric sensation on both predator and prey its as addicting as heroin.

"Shit, Aziza! I can be killed! You- you can't, I have to protect you. You're blood bonded to me." James half-shouted half-muttered, he was getting flustered and blood was coloring his cheeks. "You're veronitocin Aziza, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

"You can't be killed silly, your James, my James. I wont let anything hurt you. What is being a Witch have anything to do with it?" she asked sounding concerned. There were so many aspects now playing into her life.

"We need to get out of here now, they probably already know. If not I don't want to wait until they find out. Shit Aziza, we need to go talk to you Mother-" Aziza cut James short of finishing his sentence.

"Don't you ever call that vile, wretched whore my mother!" she shouted, "I have done everything to stay away from her. If you want to meet her, fine! We'll get in my car and meet her!" Aziza shoved past James violently and she wrenched open the front door of their tiny house not even bothering closing the door behind her. She stormed down the cracked pavement and got into her beat up white Saturn. She started the engine with a roar, and glared back at the house, which James was calmly walking out of. She honked one, and revved her engine; almost a second later James was sitting in the passenger seat next to her. She hated when he used his vampiric speed against her like that, it always caught her off guard when he would nearly disappear and reappear a second later.

The car ride was rigid with tension, Aziza was pissed and James was nervous. It was nearing the late afternoon, and the roads were crowded with cars. It didn't matter to Aziza; she was speeding along the winding roads.

James looked over at her as they turned on a small street with identical white houses; her knuckles were white against the steering wheel. She speed along the street almost by habit, and she stopped at the last house on the street. The house wasn't like the rest, the floor plan was similar but the paint was peeling and the yard varying shades of yellow.

"Home sweet home," Aziza said cynically.

"Its not so bad" James tried to reassure her, but deep down he knew it was pretty run down.

"You know you're right, it's a fucking mess!" she said. As she walked up the cracked walkway toward the house, She opened the door and quickly looked in. "Calain, are you here… Or conscious?" she asked the quiet house. She walked in and looked in the first two rooms, but found half a dozen empty liquor bottles.

"Your mom drinks?" James asked sardonically looking at the bottles

"Drinks is an understatement, its more of a way of life" Aziza stated scathingly. Just then she saw something move down the hall and in the living room. She knew instantly who it was. "Mom, come on, come say hi" she sounded as if she were talking to a small very shy child, instead of a thirty-six year old most likely hung over woman.

From the last door on the hall, a woman emerged; she still had traces of beauty on her face but was masked by hard times and alcohol abuse. She was wearing dark green negligee that complemented her creamy skin and she had messy, slightly graying long burgundy curls.

"What the hell is going on, there is everything to know! Mom, please why is there so many secrets? Why don't you tell me the fucking truth!" Aziza demanded, hot tears were welling up behind her eyes. She wouldn't let herself cry though, only the weak cry and she sure as hell wasn't going to be weak.

"Alright" Calain said, "You want to know? I'll tell you," She took a deep breath either for dramatic effect or to steady her nerves Aziza couldn't tell.

"It was a long time ago, before you were ever born. I was working in the organization called Eternal Legacy, but back then it was called UniEarth. I was assigned to look after this vampire, Gefaest. He was cornered by some witches and almost bled dry. It was hard to look after him sometimes, oh the stories he would tell could make your head spin.

"One day I was there and he pleaded with me for blood. I wasn't sure if I should because my Nana would talk about how we were part the Akrill line a renowned line of Witches. Witches and vampires don't mix well at all, if a Witch Council found out that you had been blood bonded to a vampire, they would hunt out the vampire and kill it. The Witch would then be sent into exile, or put to death herself. But eventually I caved and I gave him some blood, I can't explain what happened next. He just started coughing and sputtering, cursing me!" Calain was looking at her hands almost in a state of hysteria. She seemed too involved in the past to even acknowledge that Aziza and James were still sitting there.

"That night I went back to UniEarth, why I cannot say. The attendant had said that Gefaest had checked out, you know they were at their leisure. So I headed home, when I got there I had the whole Witch Counsel sitting in my living room. In the middle of the group Gefaest was tied to a pole in the middle. He looked severely beaten and possibly unconscious." Her voice broke, and had to take the time to steady her fraying nerves. But never the less she continued. "The council members demanded if what the wretch had said was true." She cast a weak forlorned glance at her daughter before she continued." They questioned me on what had happened. Being the fool that I was I told them everything. Almost immediately after I had finished the council erupted in outrage, cursing wildly and pulling my home down around them. Gefaest was set to death and his screams followed me as I ran as fast as I could to get away from the murderous magic wielders."

"Well what happened?" asked James curiously, he noticed he was sitting on the edge of his seat and biting a fingernail.

"I was so scared I just wanted to be invisible, and a sort of shield appeared around me. It may very well have saved my life, because soon after, I heard the sound of ethereal hounds behind me, they soon caught up, but it was as if they could not find me. These great, flaming, black hounds that had been brought from another dimension could find no trace of me from where this shield had appeared, I couldn't explain how it had happened if I tried." She said this all the while with her eyes glazed over, as if her memories were taking over her entire mind.

"It took me many months to lose those that followed me. I had to travel across the world, at one point I was a sister in a Russian Convent. That, however, didn't last as long as I'd hoped, the council managed to find me even there so I was forced to flee again. I spent some time in Israel and Egypt, and then I went to Italy in the upper mountains. That was where I met your father." She broke her reverie for a moment to give her daughter a heartfelt look." I really loved him; he was the only one that there ever really was for me. We fell in love over the few weeks that I had been there. I became pregnant and we planned to be married." Her eyes darkened with a shadow that Aziza had never seen in her mother before. "That was when the council caught up to me again. They found your father and killed him while I was out picking heather in the fields. I ran along the mountain trails in order to escape but they kept after me. I realized that they would not stop until I was dead, so I decided to take a chance, I was cornered upon a cliff and I jumped. The council members didn't investigate further because they believed I had fallen to my death. I had actually only dropped a few feet onto a ledge and crawled out of sight." She paused as if remembering a very bitter memory. "I waited there for what seemed like ages. I returned to the village as soon as I could, and when I entered our house to see what was left. My love was lying on the floor, dead and mutilated." She choked back the tears that were waiting on the edge of her eyes and begging to be let loose." It looked like he had been ripped apart from the chest out. A bloody pile of flesh barely recognizable as the man I had loved." She paused, regained composure. Slowly she raised her head from her hands and then said calmly, and very quietly "Now you know".

CHAPTER 3 

Adrian's mind ran in circles as she sat there in the remains of her now lost love Brian. She didn't know where else to go, her heart was broken and something deep down inside her died. She stalked down the hall, and pulled the bedroom door open, letting it slam against the wall. She planned to leave that night. She pulled a dingy old carpetbag from the closet, and started haphazardly throwing her belonging into the bag. Once she had finished packing, she took one last glance at the apartment that had been hers for over fifty years and left for the last time.

The air was still the January frost made everything seem dead and frozen, as she made her way through the sullen, dark streets of Greenpoint, Long Island. She headed for Havoc, wishing to speak briefly with Eda. As she came upon the club, she saw that Eda was just locking it up for the night, as all of the patrons had left by that time.

"Adrian what a surprise, how the hell have you been?" Eda greeted in her warm but indecent way. She looked tired as she unceremoniously locked the doors, but she seemed alert enough to carry on with idle small talk.

"I am leaving" Adrian replied tersely, she really wasn't in the mood for idle banter. She had her mind made up and even Eda's shocked expression couldn't change her mind.

"Why where are you going?" Eda half stuttered.

"Ohio, _anywhere_ but here. I just need a change right now"

"You seem to on edge to be that casual. Especially for Ohio"

"Just a change of pace," Adrian said nonchalantly.

"Well if you're so set in moving where's Brian?" The second Eda said it she knew that she had found a sore spot. Although Adrian quickly gained composure, she momentarily saw something darken in her.

"He's gone..." she barely could speak the words, and seemed almost disgusted by the thought.

"Oh that asshole-" Eda was then cut off brutally, when Adrian slammed her into the wall of the club

."Don't you ever say that about him, do you hear me?" She spat forcefully as she pressed a little harder on her windpipe. "Well?" Eda made small gasping noises and feebly shook her head to show that she understood.

Adrian let go of Eda slowly, letting her slide to the ground again. "Good." She said.

Eda quickly regained her feet and moved out of Adrian's reach. "What the _hell _was that about?" she gasped.

"Look it doesn't fucking matter okay? I just-snapped I guess. Look whatever." Adrian was struggling for the right words to say but all her logic seemed out of place.

"I know. You guys had a fight; he lost his temper and left you. Now you are so fucked up that you don't know what to do with yourself. Right?" Eda said knowingly.

"Yeah I am a total wreck. That's why I am leaving for Ohio, so if he comes round give him the message for me" Adrian said in a sullen monotone. "Eda, I'm not coming back you know"

"That bad huh? Well kiddo he will get a nice one in the balls for you from me" Eda announced. They stared at each other not exactly knowing what to do, after an awkward hug Adrian walked off into the blackening night.

That was the closest thing to a friend Adrian had hand in a long time, and it was sad to have to say goodbye.

Aziza's vision slowly faded into blackness as she heard the soft sounds of her mother and James' voices. She barely noticed as she slid to the floor and was carried by the unnaturally strong arms of James into her mother's bed.

Aziza finally awoke to the strong sent of cotton linen, and James lay on top of the covers next to her. His lean body was curled next to hers as a faithful puppy would curl around its masters sleeping form. His arm rested lovingly around the blanketed mound that would be her waist.

The light from the open widow seemed almost blinding as it reflected off the snow and ice. Aziza's mind seemed to waltz in and out of reality as she lay there with James beside her, temporarily numb the pain and virus slowly taking control of her.

Some time later, Aziza was more awake and slightly restless of her lovers sleeping embrace. Aziza slowly moved James' arm and slid out of bed, carefully though, as not to awaken him. Then she slowly crept around the bed and covered him with a blue and gold knitted afghan blanket. As her surrounding became clearer to her she started to wonder what had happened to her mother. What had come between them?

She slowly crept down the stairs looking for the place her mother had gotten off to; she shakily walked down the hall where the aromatic smell of fresh hazelnut coffee greeted her nostrils. Once turning into the kitchen she saw her mother sitting at the table hunched over her cup of coffee that smelled faintly of liquor.

Calain noticing her daughter standing in the door way rushed to try and help her to a seat. Aziza being as strong natured (and stubborn) as she was shook off her mothers warm attempts, determined to walk to her own seat. In the attempt to shake off her mother she had lost her balance and stumbled to the floor, where it took some careful maneuvering to find her balance and stand up. She then sat gratefully in one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

"So are you feeling better?" Calain asked, while keeping her eyes on the coffee as if hoping it would answer her.

"Umm not really." Aziza said,  
"He really cares about you, you know," said Calain making a side reference to James, but still not looking at her.

"James? Yeah I guess he does,"

"It's just sometimes I wish your Father were still around" Calain said dolefully, "Sometimes its as if I can still hear him playing on that old fiddle of his. Such sad songs he would play, I guess that's how I grew to love him. I remember that night; he was part of a gypsy clan that lived in the mountains. As you probably remember from before. But he would play such beautiful songs in the town square. Then one night I was so lost in his song I stood up and walked towards him, I had no recollection of ever doing such. But I do remember what he said to me 'Will you walk in the moonlight with me?' I knew then I loved him." Calain was lost, somewhere deep inside her memory and sometimes forgotten past. Aziza noticed that Calain had goose bumps up her arms from the intensity of the memory. "But that was many years ago…" She had a sad look of waning sorrow and grief mixed with some other emotions Aziza could not quite place." So tell me about _James_" Her mother suddenly came out of her trance, and had an eager look on her face like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

"He's sweet, really I just don't want to talk about him." Aziza replied honestly.

"Oh, well okay honey" Her mother said looking slightly crestfallen. "Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?" Her Mother added hastily after seeing the seething look she got when she mentioned any form of food.

"No!" She replied almost to hastily, and then softening her tone she said, "No, Mom I am fine." She emphasized the word mom to give Calain some from of paternal warmth.

"You're going to have to eat sometime", Calain said concernedly.

"Well damnit mother, I will eat when I feel like it!" Aziza said hotly, but the strain of yelling had her head swimming again, so she quickly brought up a hand to steady herself.

The week went by with the normal outbursts of opinions, and dizzy spells. For the most part things had settled down, and the Christmas spirit had awakened a sense of cheer in them all. James flung himself whole-heartedly into the events of the season, while Aziza slightly weaker than normal watched from the sofa. Calain seemed more dedicated to her motherly duties and bustled about the house making cocoa or hanging holly, and she was sober more often than not (which was a vast improvement from how her mother was when Aziza grew up).

It was about 10:30 on Friday night, it was December the twenty-fourth, and Aziza had binged on the pre-Christmas feast. Calain sat in an easy chair listening to old Christmas carols sung by Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby, played on her old stereo system. While James still enthusiastically embracing the Christmas sprit was trying to coax Aziza off the couch and to dance with him. He reminded her so much of a small child eager for presents and cookies that she had to give in, and he merrily waltzed her around the room in time to the music.

"Let me lead, just fallow" James would half chide as she tried to lead the dancing, but he would quickly make a quirky face so she would have to laugh and smile. "You're a good dancer if you just tried" He laughed as she stepped wrong

"I would be a better dancer if you didn't step on my toes" Aziza would coo, and just giggle along with him.

The night passed rapidly around them, soon they realized they had listened to the same song over and over again and stopped dancing. Aziza and James looked at Calain who slept softly in the folds of a warm old quilt. Soon they found a comfortable spot on the old worn out couch.

"Its times like this, I just, just I know I guess" James said

"Know what?"

"Why I want to live forever, with you." He softly replied, He pushed Aziza's chin up slightly as to look her in the eyes. Aziza couldn't look into those warm green eyes; they sent electric chills dancing up and down her spine.

"James," she said softly while her fingers traces the faded cross-stitched roses on the couch. "I do love you."

"And I you," He said. He moved slightly and pulled something small out of his pocket. "This is for you, its rather old but I hope you like it." He then pressed in her hand a small plain gold band, it was rather narrow but the ring was sturdy and it fit perfectly on to her delicately small hand.

Aziza was so full of a happiness she had not felt in too long a time, that she kissed James a warm passionate kiss that left both their senses dazzled. As the lay together on the couch, they watched the fire slowly burn down to nothing Christmas morning fast approached. Aziza snuggled her face into James' stone cool chest, his body contouring to make her more comfortable; before he knew it Aziza was fast asleep a small grin on her cherub lips.

The morning sky was pewter gray and the snow fell in heavy blankets on the sleeping house. Aziza awoke with the smell of bacon and pancakes in the air. She heard her mother hurrying about the kitchen. She slowly rose from the now deserted sofa, and walked into the kitchen. She saw James sitting at the table enthusiastically chewing a piece of bacon, with the most adorable childish grin no his face. Once he spotted her, he quickly ran and picked her up and spun her around, and once again he was her small eager childlike love.

Aziza gave into the slight temptation and smell of ginger cake baking, so she sat and ate with her family. This brought a small sense of warmth into her, the pain dulled slightly as she chewed on a soft sweet pancake. For once she felt the feeling of normality, and she felt elated that for once in her life she had a warm loving family. After breakfast James wanted to walk around the yard and enjoy the beautiful snow.

It took him almost no time at all to convince Aziza to join him, so the two made for the door and were soon in the bright glare of the beautifully falling snow. James ran quickly though the white powder that was rapidly approaching knees depth, stepping lightly as his un-natural heritage granted him. Aziza felt a sudden urge to spread her arms and spin around in the falling snow. When James saw her he laughed and tackled her down into the snow, and rolling around on the ground; they both savored the closeness, laughing the whole time.

Vladimir hated the snow, the wet, and especially the cold. He walked along the snowy overly decorated streets, with a permanent scowl on his face and a slouch in his walk. He was headed down towards Ipswich, Massachusetts; the original witch's town.

"So you're saying that you want us to find out where these _dogs_ are?" Demanded Risika, the head of the Council.

"Yes," Vladimir said sternly, "Only because I am sure that there is a vampire amongst them." He quickly added at their critical looks. The Council had not taken kindly to his plea to hunt out a werewolf clan. A healer had last spotted Adrian; Adrian had slaughtered a pair of prostitutes and their guest for the evening.

"Do you not agree that we have enough problems cleaning up the mess that" he paused for lack of a better word "that whole damn family has made? -A half vampiric daughter and an exile mother-?" Said a squeaky voiced man in the back of the room. He was referencing the Brackof family; Calain had exiled herself and her family.

"I hear she is now in cohorts with werewolves!" a younger woman squealed, her frightened eyes darted about the room. She was referencing Adrian who had become friendly with one of the oldest and most deadly pack of lycanthrope this hemisphere of the world has seen in over seven centuries.

These outbursts seemed to be quieted by sharp looks from the older members of the Council. Vladimir looked about the room and tried making eye contact with as many of the nine people in the room as he could. He knew that this was a hard won battle with all the damage that Adrian was stirring up.

He began to think of his next plan of action, and what details he should tell them. This was a dangerous task, if you say one thing to offend them; forget your case you just want to escape with your life.

"I know _where_ Adrian is" Vladimir said, "She has come to reside in a pack of werewolves," gasps and awed looks swept over the crowd, and one poor girl of weak constitution fainted. They all seemed as scared as she though, to finally know that all the rumors were true.

"This is great news indeed," Said Risika oppressing her interest "But how shall we deal with her?"

"Ah, now there is the dilemma," Vladimir said coyly "you see, I can handle Adrian. But I cannot deal with the Wolves"

"You sit in a room of the most powerful Magic wielders in the World, Wolves shall be no problem" Replied Risika "Now what do you want in return?"

"I want your help in another matter" He said, " I need a few minor enchantments to take care of another vampire"

"Seriously you wouldn't need our help with a vampire," Risika was mocking him now.

"Do you want my help or not? Besides I am taking out this vampire because it should make your little Brackoff family problem much easier," he said heatedly "Do we have a deal?" He had been tracking James across the countryside for the past 80 years and now that he has established a permanent residence for himself, getting to him wouldn't pose must of a challenge.

"Done" stated Risika who secretly thought to herself, how fortunate she was to be getting help at such a small price. The Brackoff family will be undoubtedly destroyed and so will the reckless vampire Adrian, who's become quite a nuisance to deal with these past two years.

There was a small uproar at the seal of the deal. Not many of the Witches in the room were willing to risk their lives for Vladimir's sake.

"We will not be backed into this by you. So what if he is helping us with the werewolves? We aren't going to dive head first into death for his sake! Especially vampires protected with Witches, it's not natural! NOT AT ALL!" The entire group seemed to have their own protests along these lines.

"Silence," Shouted Risika "I am the head of the council and if I say we shall help this man. Damnit we are going to, is that clear?" The group fell silent and nodded at her obediently. "Craft, Dolmen, Manning. Go with him!" Two boys and a scrawny girl stood up and quickly exited to room.

The group quickly and rather rudely escorted Vladimir out of the house. They walked along the dark path, all the while the group muttered incantations under their breath. They all seemed to be in Old English, and they spoke it so fluently Vladimir couldn't make out what they were saying.

The Path led to the crest of a hill and though the darkness, illuminated by the moon you could see the silhouette of a mansion pressed in the darkness.

"There, lies the manor of the werewolf Albriecht," Vladimir stated out loud for the young magic users, "and my lovely Adrian too," He silently thought to himself as a wicked vengeful smile crossed his cold, pale features.

**CHAPTER 4**

Adrian awoke suddenly, looking around and reorienting herself to her surroundings. She realized that she was safe, for the most part. She was in a warm and rather beautifully adorned bed with satin sheets. Getting out of the bed tentatively she moved to get dressed quickly and went to the large rosewood door. Opening it she found an empty hallway in the magnificent mansion of her new and strange allies.

"How do I get myself in to these kinds of situations," She asked herself as she began to walk down the long corridor. Moving through the house, she began to see others of it numerous inhabitants, werewolves all. Many of these were some of the oldest and most powerful of their kind in the entire world. Adrian however was looking for the oldest and most Powerful of them all, her host and, for the moment ally, Albriecht.

He was the greatest of known lycanthropes, and most likely greater than nearly all of those unknown. He stood very tall at nearly seven feet in height, with sweeping shifts of black hair that often shades his deep green eyes. He was built as if by an artist out of marble, his muscles were atoned to perfection from use in battle and the hunt; he is covered with the scars that his near millennia of life as a werewolf would expect. Albriecht carries a rather large sword that he took from a famous witch hunter after tearing the poor fool apart with his bare hands. Its magically imbued blade resists spells and can easily cut through almost any substance. He was the elder and head of this clan, the sire of many wolves and pups. He rules his clan with a strong will and good judgment; he is always fair and never makes a decision he thinks to be wrong for the clan. Sometimes his wolf-like tendencies get the better of him and a ferocious side that would sooner rip out your still beating heart and stuff it in your mouth, than hear a word you have to say.

His sister, Catori, is his complete opposite. Where he is strong and large, she is small and slender. Her hair as light as his was dark, almost white as snow, and with eyes the coolest color blue, so cold that they could freeze fire. Her ruthless and calculating mind often got her in to trouble with the other lycan; however, the position of her brother has always kept her safe.

"Do not test me sister!" said a deep and powerful voice Adrian recognized as Albriecht's. She quickly made her way towards the commotion because she had pressing matters of which she needed to talk with the great werewolf leader.

"I have had enough of this!" Roared Albriecht, overturning a finely made table, his rage easily seen splayed across his handsome features.

"Calm down brother, you must get a hold of yourself in front of our guest." Stated Catori in her usual smooth and musical voice. Gesturing towards the doorway and the new arrival of Adrian.

"Don't mind me." Adrian said nonchalantly, as she walked calmly forward to take a seat where the now destroyed table had been. "I can wait until you two are finished."

"No!" said Albriecht said forcefully, "We are done here." He glared at Catori for a moment before returning his attention to Adrian.

"Yes." Catori said indignantly, quickly leaving the room, her red satin dress flitting silently behind her. Even when angry, Adrian noted, Catori was still beautiful.

And though the room was silent Adrian could still hear the echoes of the once violent fight. Though she was sitting in the aftermath she knew the shouting match would continue eventually.

"So, what was that all about?" Adrian asked in a manner suggesting she almost didn't care.

"Nothing." Snapped Albriecht. His features softened as he saw the skeptical look on Adrian's face. "My sister wishes us to do things that we should not do. As head of this clan it is my decision, and she had _no_ right…"

"What did she do?" Adrian asked, suddenly sounding worried.

"She, along with a few others, killed a small band of witch hunters. The Akrill Line I believe, or possibly Shade" He said with a downcast tone. "The council won't stand for this." His features turned almost savage as he went on, enraged. "She should have realized the consequences of what she was doing! Now we may have a full on war with the witches!" His expression turned somber once more. "Three of the clan died in the battle. One was our cousin, mine and my sister's."

Adrian gave Albriecht a sullen look." I am sorry for your loss. I too know what it is like to lose someone whom you love."

Albriecht sighed." there is nothing that can be done now other than to bury our fallen and prepare for the coming tide that will be retribution."

"What if your clan wants revenge?" Adrian asked, "What then?"

"I do not know." Albriecht stated bluntly. " It will likely be the beginning of a long and terrible war between the lycan and witches council."

"What are you going to do against the witches council?" Adrian asked, her visage brightened as a plan began to unfold in her mind.

"I must do what is best for my clan, and that does not include allowing them to be slaughtered by the witch hunters." He said solemnly, and with conviction.

Adrian stared bitterly as she knew that her plan had been quickly dashed by Albriecht's words. "Well is there any possible way," she demanded bitterly.

"I have to do what is best for my family, not what suits your vengeance," He replied coolly. "Besides, I find that it is a trivial emotion. You and your human counter parts always busy yourselves with some idle endeavors!"

Adrian was seething with rage, how dare he just sit there and talk in placid tones as if her life was just a chess game! Adrian, trying to keep what little pride she had, rose from her seat and angrily stormed out of the room. A gas lamp's soft glow lighted the long, cold, corridor she had entered; their soft light glowed in the large windows lining the walls. Adrian noisily stalked down the hallway, her shoes were making loud clacking and scuffing noises as they hit against the marble floors.

"Don' list'n ter Albriech'." Said a soft and bracing voice with a strong British accent from behind her. As Adrian turned around she saw a diminutive, yet strong, blonde haired occupant of the mansion, obviously he was a werewolf. "Seamus' tha name, 'm sorry if I was intrudin' on your private like conversation, but it was pretty hard not to 'ear."

"Aye, I could damn well hear it from the other end of the castle." Said an identical to the first of the speakers, as he walked out of the shadows of another hallway.

"Tha'd be me brother, 'is name's Cedric." Stated Seamus bluntly.

As Adrian had more time to look at the twins, she noted that they were identical in every single detail, from their almost brown dirty blonde hair, dirty gray eyes and roughly handsome features, to the freckles on their face. She suspected that if she measured them, they would be exactly the same height and girth.

" I'm right sorry miss, bu' you must excuse Albriech', 'e was in love, 'e fell in love wit' a she-wolf tha' died over a cent'ry ago, 'e 'asn't been the same since..." Said Cedric in sorrowful tones.

Seamus started to say something, but broke off just as he was forming the words. He and his twin became suddenly alert and look worried.

"What is it?" asked Adrian.

The question soon became irrelevant as a deep and resonating roar echoed through the castle. Adrian saw the door to the room she had recently vacated spring open and an enrage Albriecht stride rapidly through it. He began to change, his features becoming larger, stronger and his body began to add to it's already impressive size. Albriecht roared again as thick spurts of hair sprouted all over his body and his face elongated into the muzzle of an extremely large wolf. Before the change affected the entire of his features, however, it seemed to stop. He now stood, in partial change, shaking violently he drew his massive enchanted sword and called out to his brethren in the house with yet another roar.

Many occupants of the house began to arrive also changed as he was, although a few were in the full form that was their heritage and even fewer still in their human façade. As they did so, Albriecht said in an earth-shattering growl, "We have intruders into our home. They come, removing our wards and defenses against any such intrusions. This cannot be tolerated; we must defend our home, and our lives!" With this he leaped down the hallway and into the main foyer, taking inhumanly large strides and bounds. His many clan members were following closely behind. He reached the door, just as it was blasted open from the outside by a fireball cast by one of the many mages now flooding into the castle.

The twins got an evil glint in their eyes as they too began to change while moving towards the scene of battle. Adrian licked her lips.

_It has been a while since I have had a good fight, _she thought to herself while walking calmly into the midst of the battle. Her incisors elongating to her graceful pearl white fangs, her eyes glinted maliciously as she sized up a possible target.

Bearing her fangs she moved swiftly upon one of the mages, taking him up by his jaw and lifting him off his feet, she began ravishingly tearing out his throat with her teeth. A wolf howled and Adrian was brought back to her senses as the blood ebbed away. She noted Albriecht, back on his feet, using his great blade to good advantage amongst his kin, deflecting magical blasts of energy and striking with lightning speed to bring down the mages.

Adrian then took in what was going on in the rest of then room. She saw a small group of four magic users surrounded by lycan near to the staircase, they would not last long Adrian decided. On the far side the Catori had made an appearance, leaping from a high banister and landing directly on the shoulders of a young witch, Adrian winced as she saw Catori tear the youth to shreds with her claws and fangs.

Adrian was suddenly on the ground under a great weight; almost instantaneously above her she heard a strange whooshing noise. The thing weighing her down shuddered and let out a low growl. The weight lifted and Adrian saw it to be a werewolf, now with a severe burn along his back, bounding towards the caster of the spell. The unfortunate spell weaver, who had been hiding behind a pillar a short distance from where Adrian had stood, now looked on in horror at his imminent doom. The mage let out one forlorn cry before his head was severed from his body by the powerful claws of the wolf. Adrian could not be distracted by her rescuer however, as other mages were close at hand and needed to be dealt with.

Striding towards her next victim, Adrian stopped dead in her tracks at the sight she saw. Standing calmly, leaning against the blasted doorframe, stood Vladimir! He had an almost amused look upon his twisted features as he watched the slaughter of the many mages. One of the wolves it seemed had noticed this new opponent as well and leaped for him. Just as the powerful creature was about to land upon Vladimir's chest, the hunter stepped aside and allowed the wolf to fall upon one of his silver blades that was firmly held in place. Even when the beast was dead, hanging limp, Vlad merely laughed at the attempt and threw the corpse, which was now reverting to its human shape, as if it were a rag doll. Vlad looked up and met her eyes, Adrian wanted to run across the room and rip this man to shreds, but she couldn't, she couldn't even move. She felt a cold shudder ripple though her body, as she fell helplessly into his cold eyes.

_This is the man that killed Brian, the only one I ever truly loved. He deserves to die! I need to kill him! But why can't I move? I can't be afraid of him, but I am, I'm petrified of him. I'm as afraid of him as a little girl is of the nightmares under her bed. _She thought as panic raced within her mind.

Vladimir barked out a few commands and the mages began to withdraw towards the doors. Three of the magic users broke off from the main group and began casting, a strange rift appeared directly outside of the doors and the mages quickly ran through it. Vladimir waited for just an extra instant, just enough time to meet Adrian's eyes once more; he then darted through the gate as it closed behind him.

His icy gaze sent chills through Adrian's spine.

Adrian's vision blurred into darkness she swooned and faintly noticed a pair of strong arms catching her and lowering her softly.

Adrian's consciousness felt a pull, a pull so strong it tore her mind clear out of her body so that she was looking down at herself upon the floor, surrounded by a small group of concerned lycan. Adrian tried to scream, but found she had no real will to scream everything inside her was just numb. She was being half dragged down the East Wing hallway by an unseen force, and then thrown into a room. It took only a very short time for her eyes to adjust to the dark room. There was a merry fire burning in the hearth, its orange light glowing on the mahogany walls. The walls that weren't covered in books, she recognized where she was. This was the Old Study; the books that lined these walls were mostly from the dark ages and Elizabethan era. There was an armchair facing the fire, sitting in it was a woman in white. She hid behind the wings of the chair; all you could see what her find skirts of her dress cascading from the seat of the chair.

"Hello" she said calmly. Her voice was pleasant, but held an odd quality of seeming ageless and wise. What made it all the more frightening to Adrian was that it eerily seemed as if the words did not originate from her, but from everything in general. .

Adrian didn't answer; she had no idea what to say to the woman.

"Would you mind being seated, we can't talk in doorways now can we? Not since the walls have ears as well as eyes." The woman said, when she spoke the room seemed colder. Adrian Crossed behind the chair and sat on a small lounge chair next to the hearth. When Adrian looked at the woman she had to suppress a scream. This woman had pure white eyes! Glazed over from many years of death, and the light blue tinge to her lips. She has small bone structure, and her mousy hair tied in a tight intricate bun.

She sat peacefully and the corners of her mouth were upturned in a faint smile. She glowed with an air of someone who knew too much.

"Wh-who are you?" Adrian stuttered, shivering in the un-natural cold that filled the air. She was startled that her voice was saturated with such fear and trepidation.

"My name is Arinelle." The woman answered with a look of what Adrian thought to be kindness.

Gaining a little confidence, Adrian asked, "Why am I here?"

"The question of why you are in the house with a pack, or why you are here with me now?" Arinelle asked.

"Just in general." Adrian managed to say.

"I can tell you some things but not everything," the woman replied. "But I can make known what I can. You are here because there is a great catastrophe about to occur, what it is I do not know. But it will happen if you do not stop Vladimir from doing what he has planned." the woman warned. Her voice was no longer gentle; it was harsh and venomous with purpose and hatred.

"Well now that we have a sole purpose in mind, lets get talking on how we can kill him" Adrian stated leaning forward and hoping to achieve newer knowledge on how to avenge her lost love by killing Vladimir.

"The dog doesn't bite the hand that feeds her." Arinelle said. Her face was taut with suppressed emotion. "But if you do kill Vladimir there is something I can guarantee you, you will be the savior of two people."

"Well that's just peachy for them now isn't it?" Adrian replied tersely with a touch of contempt. "But, can we get back to the point? _How do I kill Vladimir_?"

She heard her name being called; it seemed to be coming from a million miles away. Adrian suddenly felt a pull like before, but it was more of a very powerful jerk and it rapidly brought her back, and into, her body.

When Adrian opened her eyes, she was staring up at the grand crystal chandelier of the main foyer. She was lying on the ground and she became aware once more of concerned lycan standing over her. They were now in their human form, and seemed intent on finding out if she was okay.

"What happened?" Adrian asked.

"You went into shock and collapsed, you've been here for about twenty minutes" Replied Catori.

"What! Where's Vladimir!" Adrian hurried to get up but a couple reassuring hands pushed her back down, so she was laying on the floor again, propped up on her elbows.

"How do you know those witches?" Catori asked cautiously.

Before Adrian could answer her vision started to become fuzzy, and her head began spinning. Slowly the room and its inhabitants faded into a deep and endless darkness as Adrian's mind relapsed into the peace of unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 5 

Aziza slowly rolled out of bed and looked across the room at a long mirror. She liked what she saw. She had changed from the wispy nothing of a girl filled with dread, to a healthy, slightly less morbid young woman spending her time with the man she loved. Her once fallow cheeks had become full and rosy, and her once birdlike appearance had changed so drastically to that of an island princess. She was by no means over weight either; her body was toned to perfection from her increased activity around her home with James and her mother. When there is no fat, the muscle stood out much clearer than on a normal person.

Aziza looked over her shoulder and smiled warmly at her James, deeply asleep with the faintest shadow of a grin upon his peaceful visage.

_I am the luckiest girl alive_. Aziza thought to herself. _I have everything I should have ever wanted. _She smiled again.

Aziza walked out of her room, down to the kitchen and began to busy herself with making breakfast for Calain and herself.

She was just about to turn over the pancakes when the phone abruptly interrupted her train of thought. She quickly moved the pan off the heat and dashed to answer the boisterous ringing of the phone.

"Hello?" Aziza asked cautiously. She wasn't sure who would be calling her house, especially since most of the neighborhood would be happier with their moving

"Who is this? Calain?" said a man's voice on the phone. He has a nice warm quality to his voice but he seemed as caught of guard as she was.

"I should ask the same of you, calling at an hour like this do you know what time in the morning it is?!" She said bossily into the phone, she never understood how someone calling her house could be so rude.

"Oh," replied the man "I am just off to bed, and I needed to speak to Calain."

"Well she is asleep and I would hope that you should know that, calling at seven in the morning!"

"Aziza?" said the voice questioningly "dear god child, I haven't spoken to you in so long." Aziza still didn't recognize the voice but it had a familiar quality about it.

"Aziza. Its me Stephen" Said the man.

She suddenly realized who it was, and all the problems of her childhood came flooding back to her. She was in silent reverie, when she realized that Stephen was repeating her name to see if she was still there.

"Y-yes. Yes I am here." She stammered she was beginning to feel sick, "what do you want?"

Aziza quickly woke her mother to give her the phone; it took Calain mere seconds to recognize the voice. Her mother's complexion paled as she listened to the man on the phone. Aziza never realized until that moment how old and troubled her mother looked.

Calain slowly put down the phone; she set it down limply on the receiver. Her mother seemed to be taking ragged deep breaths, as if to steady her nerves. She quickly waved her hand in Aziza's direction; she motioned for her to leave the room. Aziza stayed where she was, and watched as her mothers face changed from white to green as she then became sick upon the floor.

"Get out," was all her mother could say to her.

Aziza paced down the hall, wincing slightly as she dug her heels into the hallway floor.

The sound of her footfalls and her sharp breathing woke James; he stared at her from the bedroom door. When she saw him she just looked at him the tears welling in her eyes and threatening the life they belong to, she just stared him a cold dead stare. She lost control of her self and collapsed half sliding to the floor. The tears staining her once rosy cheeks, they burned her skin and made her gut churn. She didn't know what else to do and she started clawing at the ugly marks on her arms until blood flowed a new.

James couldn't watch Aziza slowly mutilate herself, her hands tearing viciously at her skin and tears pouring and muttering curses under her breath. He slowly sank down besides her and stared trying to hold her wrists steady. She fought him and he didn't have the heart to actually pin her arms to her side.

"Let me go God damn you" she spat at him

"Aziza stop! Please don't do this to yourself look what your doing!" James pleaded, trying to catch her eyes with his own.

"I don't care! Get off me, I want to be left alone" She shrieked, trying to pull away from him.

"To do morbid things to kill yourself! I don't think so," he was cut off as Aziza pried one of her hands free and slapped him across the face. It was hard enough to catch him off guard and loosen the grip around her other wrist, she quickly wriggled free, dashed to her room, and slammed the door behind her. James hurried to the door and tried to open it, but the second his fingertips touched the glass doorknob an electric shock was sent through his entire body.

He awoke moments later, completely shocked and slightly embarrassed. He noticed a faint silver haze floating in a sort of dome around Aziza's room, going in all directions, and it seemed to be protecting her. Little did poor James know of the morbid torture Aziza was sentencing herself to.

Aziza was out of control; she felt like she had been thrown at a bottom of a lake and didn't know which way was up. She was sobbing hysterically and her tears burned her cheeks and eyes. She shut her burning eyes and in this darkness she felt a cold evil slinking up her spine, it sang to her; it cooled her burning flesh. She was so intoxicated by its promising possibilities that she wasn't even aware that she had become unconscious and collapsed with a heavy thud onto the floor, absentmindedly cradling her injured arms.

A knock came upon the door at approximately half past one, James cautiously walked through the house to answer it. He had no idea who would be calling or how he should react to them. He could see the dark outline of a man shining though the glass portion of the doors. He could tell it was a man by his broad shoulders slightly hunched against the evening chill, and his rather tall stature. When James opened the door he knew who it was immediately.

Standing on the stone porch was a man; he looked to be in his mid-thirties and had white blonde hair, he was tall, he was taller than James originally thought because he hunched against the biting chill outside. The man must have been upwards of seven feet. He was wearing dark blue jeans, the looked like the designer style that models would wear, and a black T-shirt with an insignia that was obscured by his brown leather jacket. He stood there looking at James questioningly with his hazel eyes, slightly overshadowed by his lightning hair. Finally the man decided to speak.

"I'm looking for Calain," James noticed that the man had a slight English accent; his voice was calm and self-assured. James wasn't sure what to say to the stranger, so he just motioned for the man to come in. The man was eager to accept the invitation, and he slouched as he walked through the doorframe James doubted that he would have made it though if he had stood normally.

He seemed to know his way around the house; he casually walked up the stairs and avoided the fifth stair up. Which only frequent inhabitants would know was broken, and poorly fixed with plywood. Once he reached the top of the stairs he turned right, and walked into Calain's room. Even from where he was, James heard the shouts, and what seemed to be a raging fight going on. He then heard the door slam, as the man, looking flustered, exited.

He then strode across the hall and tried entering Aziza's room, and he too like James got a shock wave sent through him. James couldn't help but chuckle at his comrade's misfortune. Never the less he then crouched next to the door careful to avoid the silver mist encircling it.

Soon after some coaxing the silver mist retreated and the blonde stranger was able to enter the room. James didn't understand how the man was able to get into the room, while he wasn't able to even touch that damn door. He slowly found a small pit of hatred and jealously forming for this man, who ever he was.

Aziza lay on the floor silently sobbing, her self-loathing making it difficult to accept her pain. She had these biter and happy memories running though her head, and it was blurring her touch on reality. The blood was clotting on her arms and wrists making it irritable and itchy, when ever she tried touching her arms merciless pain shot though her. She soon became unaware of the time and her physical presence, she just retraced into herself. Then a small voice broke into her reverie, this voice seemed to whisper:

Angle of darkness, with passion so deep

Dabria remembers all the secrets you keep

So sing sweet and soft dear child of mine

For your Stephen will watch you for all of time

Sleep, young princess, child of blood

This is your lullaby, a labyrinth's song

Aziza deep princess this promise I keep

To one day awake you from your immortal sleep

These words seemed to wake her mind, as she suddenly became aware of how hard the floor was. She wanted so badly to believe that this old rhyme could save her! Oh, if her Stephen, her only notion of how a father should be, would save her. As she slowly collapsed her walls of silence, she knew that Stephen was here. She could feel his Fatherly presence and it comforted her soul to know he was there just for her.

"I see you've changed a lot," he said to her, taking in the spectacle she had made of herself. Bloody arms holding her trim frame while her hair was splayed on the floor. She seemed to curl into herself. She hid her pale and ashen face from him. To Stephen she would always be a small child in need of guidance; because she was mortal she would be gone in the blink of his eye.

"I know," She could hardly stand to look up into those huge, understanding eyes. She felt like a guilty child, destroying the only body she would ever receive. She suddenly started to cry and grabbed his waist into a tight desperate hug. He stayed there for what seemed like ages as he just stroked her hair and talked of times long ago.

James was completely stumped he had no idea what was going on and for the first time felt like he didn't belong in the house. He didn't understand why, this man would have such an effect on Aziza and Calain both at the same time. Then he finally had an idea who this intruder might be. Stephen, Aziza's father figure and Calain's benefactor no wonder why everything seemed to crash in around them.

But of all times, why now?

After what seemed like hours Aziza finally left her room, she walked like a patient in a mental asylum. Her steps were small, slow and cautious. Her face had a deathly pale pallor, and her eyes were dull and red. She barely seemed to look at anyone; it wasn't so much as looking at you but through you. Stephen carefully herded her into an empty kitchen chair; once he was sure she was sitting he kissed her hair lightly. He then silently made his way around the kitchen preparing what seemed to be an herb tea.

The tea filled the room with a strong smell of orange and chamomile, and it seemed to sit thickly in the air absorbing the tension. Aziza sat numbly, with her head in her hands. She heaved a sigh when she could smell the tea's perfume. Stephen paid no attention to her but focused himself on making the tea for them.

It took nearly ten minutes for the teapot to utter its shrill cry sounding that the tea was ready. Stephen quickly crossed the room and turned off the stove, and poured two mugs of steaming tea for them. It had a deep warm brown color, and Stephen added liberal amounts of honey to the strong tea.

Aziza attentively took a sip of the tea, and almost immediately she felt the searing pain that meant she burnt her tongue. She rather ungracefully spit the tea out of her mouth and back into her cup. The tea had a strong taste, that was sweet and bitter at the same time, she hadn't tasted anything like it.

"What is this?" she asked as the bitter taste stayed in the back of her mouth

"Oh, sorry. I forgot that you're not accustomed to the taste" Said Stephen, "Its an old tea, I bought it off an apothecary about a century ago, its for the nerves"

Stephen stared at her apologetically; as Aziza tried sipping the tea again the taste had greatly improved this time. She could now taste, honey suckle, peppermint, lemon, and some other indistinguishable spices.

"Why are you here?" she asked, this was her father, in all ways aside biological, and she hadn't seen him since she was seven. Deep down she knew he wouldn't be there unless there was definite trouble about to occur.

"Well its about James," He said quietly. He wouldn't make eye contact with her as he started intently into his steaming mug. Aziza was about to open her mouth to argue, when she felt a warm sleep coming over her. Stephen still wouldn't look at her but she sensed that she was becoming more sedated and distant.

"What about James," Aziza noticed that her speech was slurred, and she couldn't get a hold on what she wanted to say.

"I don't like what I am hearing that all," Stephen said, "There are a lot of rumors going around. The one I heard today troubles me the most. James is" Stephen paused as if he was at a loss for words, "Well he is trouble for you. He has a few powerful enemies and with your history I don't want you or your Mother getting hurts that's all" Stephen was embarrassed he still couldn't look into Aziza's shocked and confused face.

Aziza stared drunkenly at him, her mind still trying to slowly process what he was saying. She could feel the anger slowly being built up inside her, but she knew deep down that there was some truth to what Stephen was saying. She had remembered when she first met James that he was extremely hesitant to tell her anything about his past, or himself in general.

"So your saying he is going to fuck me up if I still talk with him?" she asked

"No," he replied coolly "but I am saying it's a one way ticket to getting yourself killed that's all."

Aziza sighed; she had no real idea of what to say to this. Is there even a decent way to respond to hearing your lover could be part of some immortal mafia?

"Okay Aziza, this is what I need you to do" Stephen said quietly, she noticed how he stressed the word need, "This can't continue,"

Aziza had hate burning in those dull drunken eyes, but she still sat there and listened to what Stephen had to say.

With Stephen, Aziza started to form a plan. If James needed to go, she was going to make sure that he wouldn't come back she knew couldn't handle it if he walked back into her life. She knew all to well that there were feelings and people at stake, and if James was as dangerous as Stephen said there would be stronger forces at work than just emotions.

The more that Aziza thought the more her anger boiled. How stupid could she be, he wouldn't tell her anything about who he was (how can you just trust someone like that). She was so enraged that she saw the truth to what Stephen had to say. She not only heeded what Stephen said, but she welcomed it! Oh she pitied the poor bastard, her poor James has no idea what he has gotten himself into.

Just then James walked into the kitchen, Aziza just started at him blankly. James went into a state of alarm when he saw how maimed she was and now she was drugged he could smell it on her. He took a threatening step towards Stephen, "what did you do to her!" James roared defensively. Aziza flinched even in her haze when she heard him shout like this, never once in almost three years had she ever heard him yell like that.

"James!" she said alarmed, her tone was harsh and shrill; it halted James as he was advancing towards her Father.

He rushed towards her, but when he got close enough to hold her she put out her arms for him to stay back. A look of pain and confusion crossed his beautiful features, and then an expression of slow understanding ebbed onto his face. "_You_" he growled from deep in his chest, it was so quite it was almost a whisper but it contained poison that would stop any heart.

"Its over James" Aziza said firmly. She hid her own breaking heart behind a composed mask of determination. He just stared at her as if she had struck him.

"Aziza, what are you saying" he asked her. He looked questioningly at Stephen, but he averted his gaze and crossed behind the kitchen counter. "Its him isn't it"

"This has nothing to do with Stephen," she said defensively, her voice breaking once. If he didn't leave soon her entire resolve would be gone. "Get out of here!" she shouted, an act of desperation.

"He's doing this, he's messed with you some way." James was sputtering him mind going into shock, "Aziza, its me James. Your James! Z I love you!" he half cried pitifully on behalf of his heart. Aziza slowly began to blink tears from her own eyes.

"I want you gone," she said coldly "you lied to me! This could kill my entire family!"

"I never lied to you," James said confidently.

"What about Theresa, what about her James!" Aziza shouted hoarsely emotion seeping into her voice. "You could've saved her, and you let her die! What about when that happens to me, are you going to let me die as well! Who the hell was she James, that she was so unimportant!" James slammed his fist into the wall the plaster giving way easily. He let out a shout of pain and rage as his shattered hand repaired its self.

"How dare you Stephen, what the fuck did you do"

"He has nothing to do with this, how tell me damn you!" Aziza shouted at the top of her voice.

"My _sister_. My twin sister! She died of influenza in 1920"

"James?" Aziza was questioning, confusion dawning on her features.

"No," he said icily, "its over. I don't love you, not any more" he watched as pain crossed those romantic features that she had, she seemed sad and pathetic now only a reflection of the woman she should've been. She began to mumble to herself as her arms wrapped around her waist, she looked up at him despairingly.

"Humans are _pets_, not lovers" he said this trying to summon the most bitter voice he could "good bye _pet_"

Stephen saw the pain cross her features, as James stared resolutely at her. He tried to advance toward James and make him erase the pain he caused her, "you got what you wanted Stephen now let me pass". A part of Aziza died when James walked out that door; she lost her will to live along with it.

"Aziza," a warm consoling voice said behind her. Stephen went to wrap his arms affectionately around her, but she put up hands and turned away from him.

"Please," she whispered, her voice broke softly. He knew that if she wasn't already crying the tears were not far off. Then her shoulders began to shake as a low pitiful moan escaped her throat.

"Aziza, please" he said warm issuing from his voice. She turned around to look at him and she seemed so distant and unreachable. She looked at him with pain stricken eyes, but suddenly her eyes became blank and her facial muscles relax. She teetered on her feet for a split second before her body crumpled and she fell. Stephen caught her almost instantly her lean body limp in his arms, he then noticed sweat glistening on her ashen brow and how pale she had gotten. As he held her, she began to cough, loud harsh hacks that left a small spatter of red across her lips.

**Chapter 6**

"Consumption?" Aziza asked feverishly, "are you sure its consumption"

"Aziza you need to calm down," The midwife replied "Its got to kick start a coughing attack"

Aziza was in shock; fear clutched at her and made her desperate. She couldn't be dying, not like this. She suddenly couldn't breath and started hacking. Stephen at the sign of her distress handed her a handkerchief, she took it gratefully and continued to cough into it. When she pulled the soft white cloth from her mouth it was blotted with deep crimson blood. Aziza felt like she was going to be sick, her body started trembling and going into shock.

The aged midwife looked at Aziza concernedly, she lightly tugged at Stephen's jacket sleeve and said "can I talk to you in the hall way," They quickly walked out the door.

Then Aziza could hear some shouting from the hall, and then a very grave Stephen and a very harassed looking midwife return. Stephen says down on the edge of the bed completely flabbergasted.

"Aziza," he said quietly, "your pregnant."

"I'm what?" Her mind wouldn't process what Stephen was saying.

"About three months pregnant" Stephen said this more quietly, as he stared down into the glassy and confused eyes. Meanwhile the Midwife started spooning small amounts of a sleeping draft down her throat.

As Aziza's mind became groggy, the last image she saw was the wizened peaceful face of the midwife.

Aziza lat there caught in between the realms of sleep and death. In this place it was a cold commanding wasteland, a graveyard for the soul.

A dull mourning bell echoed though the vast wasteland. Their melancholy tones echoed hoarsely though the dead land. This place was once lush and fertile, watered by the tears of the ones left behind, but war has ravaged the land and burnt its fertileness to ash.

She walked among the many tombstones, as rain sounded on the black hilled horizon. Then on the far side of the graveyard she saw a woman leaning over an open grave. This woman wore a wedding dress and veil. Sadly the dress had lost its splendor as it was tattered and covered in mud. There was no wind that Aziza could feel but this woman's veil danced and swirled in an invisible but strong wind.

As Aziza got closer she noticed that this woman wasn't more than a girl about fifteen in her estimation. Her gold hair was pulled back in beautiful winding curls shaped into a bun, and her skin was as white as the petals of a Lilly flower. There was one feature that utterly amazed Aziza; this feature was far more stunning than her tragically beautiful face. It was her alarming almost livid green eyes. Those eyes were the mirror image of Aziza's own.

Aziza couldn't help but lean in to see what the girl was looking at. In the open grave she saw and older version of herself. Her eyes were open and milky white. Aziza also noted a long gash that was still bleeding across her mid drift.

"My Mother," the girl half whispered. Long tars were streaming out of her eyes. They flowed romantically down her pale pink cheeks. Aziza wasn't sure if the girl could see her or not, but she had a strong urge to pull the girl close and cradle her in her arms.

She slowly put out a tentative hand, as if to caress that pale cheek. Aziza felt the ice-cold skin of the girl.

"I love you mommy," the girl said. As suddenly as she had uttered these words she turned into water and disappeared.

Aziza then felt a sharp tug on her arm, and reality came crashing down o her.

She awoke with a start in a warm hospital bed. There was a chair pulled close to the bedside and a small girl sat in it purposefully. She had a sharp but pretty face, and had shiny strawberry blonde hair pulled in to tight intricately small braids. She half jumped when she noticed Aziza was awake.

"Oh, forgive me!" she squeaked, "let me get a head nurse" she half jumped from her chair and dashed across the room.

The girl reentered the room seconds later with a plump jolly-faced woman. Aziza assumed this to be the head nurse for she smelled of lemon soap.

"I'm Dr. Prucilla Appletram" she said, she had a jovial voice and a gentle manor.

"And I'm Helena Lynn," the girl added happily. She ignored the stern look Dr. Appletram had given her. "But most call me Lily"

"That will be all Lily" Dr. Appletram said, she tried in vain to usher the girl from the room but she quickly dashed under her arm.

"Your Aziza aren't you?" she asked quickly, the excitement shone brightly in her eyes. The head nurse tried to hush what Lily wanted to say, "they say your mothers an outlaw and in exile and that you're a _vampire_!"

Dr. Appletram got an appalled look oh her face and forcefully escorted her from the room. Aziza started around the room confused, she was a witch not a vampire. She was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in her neck when she turned to the right, and the burning dryness of her throat. Dr. Appletram returned to the room looking sincerely sorry, and seemed to pity Aziza's baffled expression.

"I'm sorry dear," she seemed to say almost knowingly "but you know how kids are these day; so curious. And _that_ one I think is the patron Saint of curious children"

Dr. Appletram picked up a damp towel and started dapping Aziza's forehead and neck. The nurse went to go sit down but shot back up as if her chair was on fire.

"Books!" she huffed, "always those damn books she's reading!" She then pulled a large book off of the chair and placed it on the bedside table.

"What's the book about" Aziza asked cautiously, she had always had a special fondness of books.

"Dear, I wish I knew" the nurse replied sadly, "but I have seen this one before, I think it is called 'the wasteland'"

Aziza picked up the book and flipped to the last page. The last line was "this is the way the world ends not with a bang, but a whimper"

"It's a strong ending line," Aziza said thickly.

"Its not strong its true, dear." Said Dr. Appletram, as she quietly exited the room.

Aziza looked about the small pale green room. It was very much like a normal hospital but there were are some slight differences, a small table with wooden chairs sat in the far left corner and a small and abused bookshelf was in the right wall. It had a warmer and cozier air than most hospitals did, and she noticed that she got an entire room to her self. Which was a relief despite the fact that there were no windows in the entire room, just dim fluorescent lights that hung over head.

She turned her head and noticed a small pine bedside table that had a small bouquet of long stemmed black roses. They were displayed elegantly in their intricately carved crystal vase, but an air of mystery and darkness surrounded those silky petals.

She also noticed that she had two IV's, neither of which contained a saline solution either each held a bag of blood. One carefully marked with an elegant W, the other marked with a haphazard M. She decided to make a mental note to ask Lily about it later.

Just then Lily walked in the door, with a small slip of paper clutched in her hand. She quickly ran over and handed it to Aziza. "This came for you just a minute ago, I ran here as fast as I could to deliver it!" she did look lightly flushed in the cheeks and Aziza felt a longing for that color. It looked almost appetizing.

"Lily," Aziza asked cautiously. "Why are these full of blood?" she motioned towards her IV's. "And what do the M and W stand for?"

"Well silly M is for Mortal, which you were. And W is for Witch, which you also were. Were just trying to get you into a stable condition." Just then a small bell rang, and Lily apologized and dashed out the door. Aziza guessed that each person in the hospital had a different bell that signaled when they were needed or wanted.

Aziza then turned her eyes to the small slip of white paper lying on her cream bed quilt. She opened it slowly, and inside was scrawled almost illegibly "I'm sorry, I wouldn't watch you die!"

Aziza had no idea who this letter was from but she knew what it was saying, she and her child were dead. She _was_ a vampire.

Chapter 7 

Vladimir was outraged! They had been able to enter the Lycan's mansion, and had to flee from those dogs as if they were mere rats! One of the mages, the girl, Dolman; was hurt. She lay propped against a tree; she had fallen over some tree roots and sprained her ankle. Vlad watched the pathetic girl, as one of the boys talked and tended to her.

"What a piteous thing, love," he spat. This startled the young pair and they looked at him questioningly.

"You must have loved someone," said the boy, Craft "once?"

"Shh, Michael don't waste your time." Said Dolman, she had a sweet voice despite her plain appearance "he cant, I don't think he has a heart to love with"

"Jenny don't go talking like that, its rude!"

"Jenny?" said Vladimir, "that's your name is it?" Dolman, the poor girl nodded

"I believe it's a welsh name," Vladimir continued "Jennifer, yes. It's a beautiful name for such a plain girl."

The poor wretch started to cry, either from pain or the outward knowledge that she was plain.

"Why are you cruel" it was the boy, Craft he was outraged and almost shouting. "Have you no heart?"

"No," replied Vladimir "I have no heart. But I loved someone, once." He spoke thickly. A distant memory tried to surface in the depths of his mind, but his heart even though cold wouldn't let the painful memory be brought back to life.

"Then surely you want to celebrate it!" Dolman exclaimed: Craft gave her a soft look, as a best friend should. And he protectively laid an arm around her, either to keep her away from Vladimir, or her mind preoccupied by his sudden amount of compassion. Vladimir saw the girl become rosy in the cheeks and lose her train of thought, if they weren't openly in love yet they would be someday.

Looking at the pair brought to mind a strikingly beautiful girl, with auburn hair and dark blue eyes. To his dread those eyes never looked at him as anything more than a servant, even though he was a respectable gentleman. She was frowned upon because of her sharp whit, and he even loved the renegade heart that beat in her chest.

He remembered when they had first met; she just had this look of surprise on her face. Those deep blue eyes always had a look of surprise on them, like a small child discovering Christmas. When he introduced himself she scoffed at his slight Russian accent, and dismissed him with a genial wave of her pink hand. Right then he knew that this was the woman he wanted to win over, no matter what odds it took.

Love can turn to hate, he had clearly loved an angel but now despised the very essence of this woman. Adrian would never love him.

"Vlad?" it was Manning, another one of the mages. He had a pointed face and vibrant red hair, and shallow gray eyes. These features gave him a rather commanding look and he was obviously the lead of the group he was nearing an age of maturity even though he was stuck in a sixteen year olds body.

"What Manning?" Vladimir demanded, a bitter memory on the tip of his tongue

"You have been here all night, its nearly morning we need to get going"

"We aren't finished with our duties here," Vladimir reminded him.

"We're starving," Manning, pleaded emphasing the word 'we'.

"So what do you want me to do about that!" Vladimir spat at the pathetic boy, even though he himself was suffering from an empty stomach.

"Well look at Dolman and Craft, and your not sleeping this isn't healthy and the winter hasn't left entirely. We should turn back, really it's for the best"

Vladimir couldn't deny that there was truth in what Manning said, but he didn't want to admit defeat that easily. He needed some proof that his end of the bargain would be held up he didn't know it would be this difficult.

"There is a rumor," Manning said, the boy had a lust for power that Vladimir admired "that the Dogs sister, Catori is almost as power crazed as you" after a pointed look form Vlad the boy added "no offense. But she wants to separate from the clan, and she does have her own set of supporters."

"And what's your point boy, why is this Lycan so important?" Vladimir was half curious, but he didn't want to trust a werewolf.

"She's your ticket in! Don't you see if you can convince her, she can over throw her brother! Goddess your so stupid some times!"

A plan was beginning to unravel in Vladimir's twisted calculating mind. Yes, Catori would be a great help along this journey. But there would be many challenges, and the first one was getting her on to his side.

Dawn quickly spread over the whole valley; the small quartet could easily see all the details of the mansion. The teenagers, the mages that the Witch Council had sent with him, and Vlad's only company looked at the mansion with growing unease. Though they were within a safe distance from the house, he also felt the odds stacking up against him. 'The World has gone insane,' he silently thought.

**Chapter 7**

Adrian was planning to leave that night, because she was all too aware of the danger fast approaching. She hastily shoved her stuff into her carpetbag, not really caring.

"Going somewhere?" came a musical voice from behind her the voice belonged to Catori. Adrian turned to look at the abnormally beautiful werewolf. She wore a splendid champagne silk gown, and her hair was pulled up elegantly and had ruby jewels in it that set off the beauty of her pale blonde hair.

Adrian put up her guard almost immediately, because she knew that Catori was as ruthless and calculating as she was. This made them have a strong bond almost immediately.

"I am leaving, I feel that I have outstayed my welcome" Adrian said curtly hoping that this would be enough of an excuse for Catori.

"Not dressed like that I hope," Adrian nodded "well let me give you something from my wardrobe." Catori motioned for Adrian to fallow her. They walked stealthily down the hall of the quiet mansion. Careful to avoid anyone lest they be caught they knew there would be some questions asked. Soon they came upon a magnificently polished cherry wood door.

Inside was the most elaborate room of the entire house; it was like being inside a Victorian dollhouse. It was all shades of cream, peach and white. The bed was covered in silk covers and had lace hangings, and nothing seemed out of place. The room could was an anachronism because among the antiques still in original condition there were stereo systems and a computer.

Catori quickly walked to a door on the far left side of the moderately large room, and opened it. With the opening of the rood Adrian could smell a strong sent of lavender and orange. It was a walk in closet, and the walls were lined in clothes and one of the walls was dedicated to her jewels and shoes, all of which were elaborate and expansive.

"Hmm let me see," Catori puzzled, "ah, this one will be beautiful." She pulled out a forest green velvet dress trimmed in black lace and had a diamond broach let in the plunging neckline. Adrian looked at the dress and noticed that the dress would never fit her.

"How do you expect me to fit in this dress?" Adrian asked, but she knew that answer.

"Here take this," she said handing Adrian a silk cram colored corset, it was soft but was still sturdy. "I came upon it in London in 1905, it should still be in good working order"

She quickly and expertly strapped Adrian into the corset; Adrian noticed that it didn't hurt as much anymore. When you don't have to breath it makes it slightly easier to bear. The dress was perfect, it fit her beautifully; even the press of the barrowed dress was expressive.

"Why are you doing all of this more me" Adrian asked skeptically.

"Well to tell you the truth I want to get out of here as much as you do" Catori said earnestly. "I hate living under my brother and I have my own set of followers, and I need to break out and start the new clan one that is independent and enjoys their gift! They should love Lady moon not hide from it, I have a lust for my gift that's when I am happy, and damn my brother to the bullet!" she exclaimed bitterly.

"Harsh words," Adrian replied.

They quickly packed Catori's things and the afternoon sun was sitting low in the sky, bathing the walls in a golden red light. Catori explain that if they took one of the carriages in the stables, her and her followers could be at the shore in about three days time. It was a great risk to take the carriages and not have Albrecht find out.

Adrian and Catori walked down towards the south wing library, Adrian noticed how all of the corridors winded back upon them selves and would be impossible to the inexperienced eye. Along the way they banged upon another cherry wood door, and out of it came a man. his features were powerful, but blurred through some trick of the light that seemed to eminate from him, yet always, you could tell of his handsom appearence. Adrian noticed that his features gave him a wolf like appearance, handsome but wolfish. Catori gave him a curt nod and he nodded back then returned to his room.

"Craven," Catori explained "my closest follower." She seemed to be turning pink in the cheeks and gave the impression that she wanted more of him. It definitely wasn't love but more over a lust for his power, especially because of his strong presence.

They soon came upon the large menacing doors of the library, and they opened to the attentively. Inside sat nearly a dozen lycanthrope all of them with anxious faces. Most seemed to be waiting her instruction, all of them stared fixedly at Adrian and Catori. Most of all the felt Craven's stare his dark eyes seemed to pierce even the blackest of nights searing through the skin and peering into your very soul.

"C'mon Catori what's going on?" demanded a teen from the back of the group. Other protests also broke out, also along these lines.

"Silence!" commanded Catori, the entire group fell silent, "We are going to leave and soon, I need you" she motioned to a rather scruffy looking boy in the back of the room "Tomas to prepare six carriages." Tomas exited the room quickly, as the others shouted little tidbits of encouragement. The boy blushed and exited humbly.

"This is it," Adrian said forcefully. The group didn't respond to her well, but she was an expert of sneaking out easily. "We are going to leave first" she motioned to herself and Catori, "and the rest can fallow at regular intervals"

The carriages were sleek and black, their smooth wood reflected Adrian's face like a dark mirror. Catori got into the carriage as if this was the most normal thing in the world, and nodded at Adrian that she should fallow suit. Adrian recognized the scruffy boy holding the door open immediately and realized his name was Tomas. As Tomas was about to close the door, Craven pushed him aside and pushed his way into the carriage.

Adrian felt a cold resentment for this man, because he so strongly reminded her of the life she was desperate to leave all those years ago. Adrian looked questioningly at Catori, who had an extremely becoming shade of pink in her cheeks. Craven gave Adrian a curt nod, and she nodded back clearly unwelcoming any conversation.

She sat in silence starting out the window, deep in her own thoughts. The world around her came back into focus and the carriage gave a lurch as they started to move. Slowly her thoughts flooded over her again, she was lost in the shades of green and brown that kept speeding past her as the horses hooves clattered steadily on the dirt path. Adrian was wondering what was going to happen to them once they left, and what will happen to all of them once they successfully leave the clan.

Suddenly Adrian snapped to attention, she saw a small back figure moving in the underbrush. She thought it was a small animal at first but it was to large and looked awkward while moving though the brush, so it must have been human in her opinion. She was quickly scanning the horizon desperate to get another glimpse of the man/figure. She looked pleadingly at Catori hoping that she would notice something was a miss here, but no she was absorbed in idle banter with Craven, she had turned on her charm so naturally he would talk about anything and have no second thought about it.

Just then a shout rang though the air as if it were a gunshot, it startled Catori so much that she had to stifle a yelp.

"Whoa!" called Tomas to the six just as startled stunning black horses. "Boy get out of the god-damn road!"

"What's going on?" Catori whispered to Craven, she was extremely pale.

"I don't know, Tomas will be on his way soon though," Craven said half-heartedly. It looked by the way his lips pled that he didn't even believe what he was saying. Again more shouts were heard from the outside of the carriage it seemed as if Tomas was losing his nerve, and he seemed more pleading than commanding for them to be on their way.

"Tomas," Craven pounded on one of the sleek oak walls as a signal for him to continue, "Can we be on our way?"

"Oh yes" said a voice, this voice wasn't Tomas'. It was a cold and forced voice, hearing this voice sent a cold chill down all of their spines.

The carriage lurched forward as the horses galloped into the gathering darkness, if Catori wasn't careful the rest of her new clan might fallow them into this peril. After a quarter of an hour of traveling the carriage began to slow, however this wasn't a relief to them.

Adrian could hear a brief exchange between two or three people all of their voices were indistinguishable. Then brisk walking was heard along side the carriage, as a familiar and unwelcome face came into view, Vladimir looked at them positively beaming.

"Ladies," He said genially "and gentleman"

"Filth, in what health do I find you" Adrian spat coldly "_poor_, hopefully!"

"As healthy as ever, love" he said warmly. He then opened the carriage door and jumped in sitting next to Adrian. "If you don't mind I will be joining you on the rest of this journey"

"Who are you?" Asked Catori, she seemed more interested than afraid of this stranger.

"Vladimir, and who might you be?" He asked politely, yes he definitely had charm and knew how to use it.

"Leader of this pack," Catori said proudly.

"Such a small pack, a cur and a vampire. Impressive," Vladimir said callously.

"Well the rest are soon to fallow, we are traveling tonight." Catori said indignantly.

"And I suppose you want to be on your way," said Vladimir his cold eyes traveling around the group as Catori nodded "well I am afraid that wont be possible"

"Not possible" Adrian mused "just like your pretty little thoughts on our relationship" Adrian was secretly smiling to herself at the shocked and almost hurt face Vladimir had, but this sign of emotion quickly vanished.

"Adrian" chided Craven "Compose yourself, your being exceedingly rude to our _guest _" he spat the word guest as if he had about a hundred different adjectives to insert there.

"Its nice that there is still come common curtsey amongst dogs" He shot Craven a menacing look, for a split second those ice blue eyes seemed to flash a fiery gold. Then as if on command Craven shuddered, apparently shaken by their intensity.

Vlad soon ushered the group of out of the small carriage, they seemed temporarily blinded by being thrust into the blackness of the nighttime. As their eyes quickly adjusted to the nighttime they noticed a sallow faced girl and a boy standing watchfully at her side, and another who had hard features and piercing gray eyes. By Adrian's estimation they must have ranged from fifteen to seventeen.

"Keep moving," Said the hard featured boy, he also had flaming red hair and seemed to be the oldest of the teenagers. "Animals," Adrian heard him mutter under his breath. Tomas uttered a low menacing growl, and was quickly kicked by Craven.

"Where are we going?" asked Tomas to the sallow faced girl, but she couldn't answer him. Soon the boy who seemed to look after her walked over to Tomas.

"Don't talk to her dog," spat the boy, he tried to comfort the girl but she was utterly inconsolable. "Besides its only a miles walk, you'll soon find out" He laughed forcibly, but the laugh had no joy behind it. This boy's laugh seemed to tremble with nerves and possibly fear.

They walked for about three fourths of an hour. They tripped over tree roots, and trekked over winding hills and listened to the night, which was so alive around them. Adrian wasn't sure if it was just her mind, but she swore more than once that she had seen small pairs of silver and light blue eyes starting at them from the underbrush.

In silence they walked, occasionally the silence of the group was broken by a sudden outcry from the girl, who was quickly hushed and comforted. The aura of the group varied greatly, all emotions from despair, longing, anger and guilt flooded Adrian's senses. Because of her heightened awareness she felt like she was drowning in everyone else's emotions, while hers were muted.

They soon reached a clearing, the moon shown down in blue splendor. Tall grass and weeds floated deafly in the night breeze. Adrian thought that the moon shown almost too brightly, the entire clearing seemed one-dimensional. The forest that surrounded this field was barely illuminated, and seemed ominous.

The mages forced the Adrian, along with the Lycans onto their knees. They tightly blindfolded the group, and with their sight now gone they needed to rely on their heightened sense of hearing. This was little comfort though because they heard the sound of a knife being drawn from a sheath.

"Glad to know your going to kill us while our backs turned," Said Craven. His voice sounded angry, but there was a small quiver in it that symbolized fear. "Its very _manly_ of you."

"Shut up!" spat one of the mages, and then there was a loud thud and a sickening crack. Soon after came a stifled grunt, and the sweet smell of blood. Adrian guessed that Craven had just had his nose broken.

"Vladimir this better not be another one of your Goddamn trick," said Adrian. She wasn't exactly thrilled that she was going to be murdered in the middle of a god-forsaken forest.

"Adrian would I try and trick _you_ honestly?" he asked coldly, he was mocking her. She never had time to answer, but was slapped so hard that it made her disoriented.

"What did I tell you Manning?" Vladimir said maliciously, "Did I not tell you that she will not die with the rest of these dogs!" Manning started to recoil as if Vladimir has struck him.

"Yes, but I only thought,"

"It is a true miracle that you are able to think at all!" Shouted Vladimir, grabbing Manning by the hair and shoving him back towards the group.

"Leave him alone!" Dolman Shouted "your just a bully!"

"Dolmen," Vladimir mused "that's your surname isn't it?" the girl nodded meekly and started cautiously stepping backward as if Vlad was a poisonous snake that needed to be avoided.

"Well Dolmen, Why don't you help with the execution?" Vladimir was speaking calmly, but she started shaking her head and she was nearing a nervous collapse. "Craft, help Dolmen to the ground, she is now use to us now"

"What are you just going to kill her too!" it was Manning he was no longer stony faced but looked more like a frightened sixteen-year-old boy.

"Well this was your brilliant idea, I figured better for you to do it" Vladimir explained coyly. Manning gulped hard.

"You Bastard!" shouted Craft, and he lunged at Manning trying to hit him. The pair scuffled on the ground both kicking and punching one in rage the other in self-defense.

"Vlad I must commend you" Adrian said from five feet away, was still blindfolded but like most vampire she can search peoples memories with out them ever being aware "you have a truly united group of mages" she was half laughing, while the rest of the lycanthrope looked confused she seemed quite at ease and almost enjoying this chaos.

"You hobgoblin," spat Vladimir "keep your mouth shut you will have your uses" He pushed her forward into the ground, but at that exact moment she jumped to her feet. The ropes she had noticed had been easily broken, and she ripped off her blindfold. She had the stance of a predator.

Adrian's body was filled with an exhilarating and unexplainable rage, every muscle in her body was stiff caught between the question of whether to fight or take flight. Suddenly she lashed out with her mind at Vladimir, he was taken off guard and did a sort of summersault in the air and flew backwards about twenty feet. She quickly noticed that he had landed uncomfortably close to where Catori kneeled with the others.

Vladimir had also noticed his good fortune, and seized Catori around the waist meanwhile pulling his silver witches blade out of its sheath. The blade sparkled threateningly in the moonlight, and some of the dangerous light reflected onto Vladimir's twisted and frightening face.

"She dies Adrian," Vladimir said "she dies tonight" he then slid the blade shallowly along the pale delicate skin of Catori's throat. The cut was shallow but the silver and the magic instilled in the blade it made her scream out in anguish.

"Don't you dare," Adrian warned him, but he quickly slashed the blade across her throat and she fell to the ground, unmistakably dead.

"Too late," Vladimir said innocently, a mischievous glint in those malicious pale eyes.

Just then out of the underbrush jumped two figures; they were unrecognizable in the darkness but their outlines were uncannily similar. Soon the shapes of the men began to distort and change, the bodies elongated and they desperately ripped at their clothes as muscle and bone started to enlarge. Then a hallow howl pierced the darkness; these things were no longer men but werewolves.

Two of the mages immediately started chanting old English, trying to form some feeble charm against the werewolves. It was hard to tell who was more afraid, Craven and Tomas, or the mages.

Suddenly the world became surreal, and everything seemed to hum. A lavender haze surrounded all the objects, and the moons rays became a light blue color, it was as if everything was going in slow motion. The only thing that seemed unaltered was the two mages, who seemed to be glowing. Every part of them started to pale, as they seemed to be turned completely white and reminiscent of a spirit.

Then the two werewolves stopped moving, they were standing up right and rigid. Their faces were painfully contorted.

"What's happening to them" Adrian had to basically shout, though her world was muted, there must have been some noise going on around her. She had this strange but familiar taste in her mouth, it was not exactly water more like a gas, but she tasted aura and the magic that was hanging in the air.

"Forced change," Replied Vladimir, "its one of the most painful experiences in this world."

The bodies were twisting and writhing on the ground, their mouths open in silent screams. As muscle and bones moved in rigid and strange ways. Their shapes became grotesque, but eventually became human. As fur became dirty blond almost brown hair grew in. Adrian recognized them almost immediately; they were the twins Cedric and Seamus.

"Stop" Shouted Adrian but it seemed that no one could hear her, or they didn't want to hear her. Adrian then got the strange notion to try and stop the mages, she tried to walk over to where the now men lay. The magic was so strong it was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and it was almost sickening the force that these teenagers could exert.

She then did the only thing she could think to do, and that was to jump into their line of magic, she quickly felt inexplicable pain. She could feel her fangs sinking slowly back into her gums, and a strong and vicious wind pulling at her.

"Stop this madness," shouted Vladimir. But everything he said seemed to be slurred and slow and not making any sense, the only thing that was real to Adrian at this moment is the pain.

One of the mages nodded and pulled back but reluctantly, this eased the pain slightly but not enough to make a difference.

Vladimir watched at this horrid sight, one of the mages standing over two now nearly dead men, and Adrian brought to her knees by the pain of the spell. He didn't know how the magic would stack a vampire but he assumed it would be just as painful.

"Manning I said stop!" Yelled Vladimir, but manning seemed to be driven by his magic. It was a dangerous thing that had just happened. When a mage first gets signs of their magic, it is a hard task to control it. Now it seemed that Manning hadn't even tried to control his magic and now he has become something lesser: a slave to his own power.

"No," manning replied bitterly, he turned to look at Vladimir. Manning's eyes were now jet black and larger than normal, his features became twisted and mean; he represented a snake in all of his attributes.

"Then I am sorry, my friend" Vladimir said. As he did the one thing that was reasonable, he killed Manning. There are spells no one should do and some that are frowned upon so badly that they are never taught, and Vladimir preformed on of them. He mutely muttered the curse, and then white light shot towards manning. The light seemed to be absorbed into him, and then a blinding flash of gold and white light shot out from the poor boy, and the last of manning was his ear piercing screams.

The group seemed to recover slowly as the spell had taken its toll and their minds as well as their bodies. The worst of the damage was uncontrollable shaking and a low tolerance for being touched. When Adrian finally rose to her feet, blood was tricking out from her eyes as tears would, and the men who ironically were twins seemed to be singed greatly as their faces were nearing a red shade.

"This isn't over," said one of the twins. And at that moment the entire caravan of lycanthrope walked from the woods and in the lead was their leader Albriecht. They soon formed ranks, and the twins joined those ranks as they closed in around the two other lycans that were still blindfolded and tied on the ground.

A mourning and lamenting howl was emitted from the group, Arian guessed that they had found the lifeless body of Catori.

"Nice job Vladimir, you killed the leader's sister." Adrian whispered venomously at Vladimir.

There were no pathetic pleas from the two lycans Craven and Tomas; unfortunately their sentence was execution. Craven looked on his fate with stony eyes and a set jaw, while Tomas being at a tender age looked scared and slightly green.

The then sent Craven and Tomas one after the other into the middle of the field, where they were when beheaded by a witch's blade. Craven went first; he walked with purpose and dignity into the field as if to receive an honor than a death sentence. The most remarkable thing about his death that he never uttered a word, not even when asked for a final plea, he looked skywards to the lady moon and her envious handmaidens the stars. After Craven's death, Adrian looked at Tomas who now looked so frightened and small it would be a crime to kill such a small boy. He was crying, as a boy of fifteen should do when faced with the prospect of never feeling the wind again, or eating hot food or even seeing the stars or ones mother again.

"Tomas" Adrian whispered

"What," whimpered Tomas, tears streaming down his white face

"Be brave wolf child," she said warmly, "you truly have courage"

At hearing this he squared his shoulders in resemblance of what would've been pride had he not been shaking from head to foot. He walked with his head held high, and his feet never faltering as he walked slowly out to the middle of the almost empty clearing. Adrian muttered little nothings in his mind, to comfort him as he walked slowly to his impending death. He got out the middle of the field and knelt before Albriecht. She wanted to say goodbye to the youth, but before she could say anything, Albriecht executed him and his lifeless body fell to the ground. He had slit his throat and the innocent blood soaked the dark field. He lay on his side, his eyes looking skyward while the moon reflected in his blank stare.

The sight of their deaths was so powerful that she too felt a burning resentment against them, but it was Tomas cry of despair at their sentence that actually would stay with her forever. The blood that was left in the field shined black and glossy in the moonlight that now seemed malicious and no longer innocent. The blade had sung them a last serenade as it sliced the rosy flesh of a rebel and a child.

The band of wolves soon left, Vladimir, Adrian and the two mages were left to their own devices. Since they were not part of the clan they could not deliver justice as they would to a member of their clan, they were secretly thankful for no matter how long you live it is terrible to face the unknown. When Vladimir looked around to find the two mages, they had disappeared. Adrian was slightly amused that they had left, for watching a murder such as this would surely have changed the youths. They were strong and had courage enough to leave, and would soon realize how close to their own deaths they had come.

"Wow" Adrian whispered under her breath, as she started at the carnage. The pools of blood shining like oil in the moonlight, they looked like gaping holes cut into the earth the extended to immeasurable depths.

"Adrian come away from there," Vladimir said consolingly, he went to warp an arm around her shoulders and she didn't shake him off. Instead she pulled closer to him, her head resting against his breast. He felt her look up at him.

"Adrian," he whispered softly, she moaned in response. He turned down to look at her and he instantly became caught up in her beautiful dark blue eyes that sparkled with their natural surprised glint. He couldn't breathe when he looked into those eyes, and he did the only logical thing possible he lowered his lips to hers.

He felt her cool lips caress his, and he was surprised how natural it was to kiss her. She deepened the kiss, it was filled with hatred and passion and a feeling that was indescribable. He reluctantly pulled away, inhaling slowly and she looked just as dazzled as he felt. Those damn blue eyes, they seemed to shine with a warm light, but suddenly clouded as she looked into his something she saw there scared her.

"This doesn't change anything you know" Adrian said coolly.

"Oh really," he laughed, "It doesn't change anything?"

"No it doesn't," she teased "because your still and arrogant bastard"

"And your still the harpy shrew you were over a hundred and fifty years ago," he countered.

"I'd rather be that than yours," she joked. She knew that something was different though; love wasn't the right word and neither was malice it was understanding.

Vladimir offered Adrian his arm, and she willingly accepted and they began to walk into the forest avoiding dawn, which was fast approaching. They were changed, both of them. Friendship was a long way off and hatred no longer applied, realities lines blurred beyond all recognition. They were just:

Adrian Reinglaugh and Vladimir Belov 

137


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